Title: The Call Of The South - 1908
Author: Becke, Louis
Language: English
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THE CALL OF THE SOUTH

By Louis Becke

London, John Milne, 1908



CHAPTER I ~ PAUL, THE DIVER

\x93Feeling any better to-day, Paul?\x94

\x93Guess I\x92m getting round,\x94 and the big, bronzed-faced man raised
his eyes to mine as he lay under the awning on the after deck of his
pearling lugger. I sat down beside him and began to talk.

A mile away the white beach of a little, land-locked bay shimmered under
the morning sun, and the drooping fronds of the cocos hung listless and
silent, waiting for the rising of the south-east trade.

\x93Paul,\x94 I said, \x93it is very hot here. Come on shore with me to the
native village, where it is cooler, and I will make you a big drink of
lime-juice.\x94

I helped him to rise--for he was weak from a bad attack of New Guinea
fever--and two of our native crew assisted him over the side into my
whaleboat. A quarter of an hour later we were seated on mats under the
shade of a great wild mango tree, drinking lime-juice and listening to
the lazy hum of the surf upon the reef, and the soft _croo, croo_ of
many \x93crested\x94 pigeons in the branches above.

The place was a little bay in Callie Harbour on Admiralty Island in the
South Pacific; and Paul Fremont was one of our European divers. I was in
charge of the supply schooner which was tender to our fleet of pearling
luggers, and was the one man among us to whom the silent, taciturn Paul
would talk--sometimes.

And only sometimes, for usually Paul was too much occupied in his work
to say more than \x93Good-morning, boss,\x94 or \x93Good night,\x94 when, after he
had been disencumbered of his diving gear, he went aft to rest and smoke
his pipe. But one day, however, he went down in twenty-six fathoms,
stayed too long, and was brought up unconscious. The mate and I saw the
signals go up for assistance, hurried on board his lugger, and were just
in time to save his life.

Two days later he came on board the tender, shook hands in his silent,
undemonstrative way, and held out for my acceptance an old octagon
American fifty dollar gold piece.

\x93Got a gal, boss?\x94 \x93I admitted that I had.

\x93Pure white, I mean. One thet you like well enough to marry?\x94

\x93I mean to try, Paul.\x94

\x93In Samoa?\x94

\x93No--Australia.\x94

\x93Guess I\x92d like you to give her this \x91slug\x92 I got it outer the wreck of
a ship that was sunk off Galveston in the \x91sixties,\x92 in the war.\x94

It would have hurt him had I declined the gift. So I thanked him, and he
nodded silently, filled his pipe and went back to the _Montiara_.

Nearly a year passed before we met again, for his lugger and six others
went to New Guinea; and our next meeting was at Callie Harbour, where
I found him down with malarial fever. Again I became his doctor, and
ordered him to lie up.

He nodded.

\x93Guess I\x92ll have ter, boss. But I jest hate loafin\x92 around and seein\x92
the other divers bringin\x92 up shell in easy water.\x94 For he was receiving
eighty pounds per month wages--diving or no diving--and hated to be
idle.

\x93Paul,\x94 I said, as we lay stretched out under the wild mango tree,
\x93would you mind telling me about that turn-up you had with the niggers
at New Ireland, six years ago.\x94

\x93Ef you like, boss.\x94 Then he added that he did not care about talking
much at any time, as he was a mighty poor hand at the jaw-tackle.

\x93We were startin\x92 tryin\x92 some new ground between New Hanover and the
North Cape of New Ireland. There were only two luggers, and we had for
our store-ship a thirty-ton cutter. There were two white divers besides
me and one Manila man, and our crews were all natives of some sort
or another--Tokelaus, Manahikians and Hawaiians. The skipper of the
storeship was a Dutchman--a chicken-hearted swab, who turned green at
the sight of a nigger with a bunch of spears, or a club in his hand.
He used to turn-in with a brace of pistols in his belt and a Winchester
lying on the cabin table. At sea he would lose his funk, but whenever we
dropped anchor and natives came aboard his teeth would begin to chatter,
and he would just jump at his own shadder.

\x93We anchored in six fathoms, and in an hour or two we came across a good
patch of black-edge shell, and we began to get the boats and pumps ready
to start regular next morning. As I was boss, I had moored the cutter in
a well-sheltered nook under a high bluff, and the luggers near to her.
So far we had not seen any sign of natives--not even smoke--but knew
that there was a big village some miles away, out o\x92 sight of us, an\x92
that the niggers were a bad lot, and would have a try at cuttin\x92 off if
they saw a slant.

\x93Early next morning it set in to rain, with easterly squalls, and before
long I saw that there was like to be a week of it, and that we should
have to lie by and wait until it settled. About noon we sighted a dozen
white lime-painted canoes bearing down on us, and Horn, the Dutchman,
began to turn green as usual, and wanted me to heave up and clear out.
I set on him and said I wanted the niggers to come alongside, an\x92 hev a
good look at us--they would see that we were a hard nut to crack if they
meant mischief.

\x93They came alongside, six or eight greasy-haired bucks in each
canoe--and asked for terbacker and knives in exchange for some pigs and
yams. I let twenty or so of \x91em come aboard, bought their provisions,
and let \x91em have a good look around. Their chief was a fat, bloated
feller, with a body like a barrel, and his face pitted with small-pox.
He told me that he was boss of all the place around us, and had some big
plantations about a mile back in the bush, just abreast of us, and that
he would let me have all the food I wanted. In five days or so, he said,
we should have fine weather for diving, and he and his crowd would help
me all they could.

\x93About a quarter of a mile away was a rocky little island of about five
acres in extent It had a few heavy trees on it, but no scrub, and there
were some abandoned fishermen\x92s huts on the beach. I asked the fat hog
if I could use it as a shore station to overhaul our boats and diving
gear when necessary, and he agreed to let me use it as long as I liked
for three hundred sticks of terbacker and two muskets.

\x93They went off on shore again to the plantations, and in a little while
we saw smoke ascendin\x92--they were cookin\x92 food, and repairing their
huts. Later on in the day they sent me a canoe load of yams, taro, and
other stuff for the men, and asked me to come ashore and look at the
village. I went, fur I knew that they would not try on any games so
soon.

\x93There were, in addition to the bucks, a lot of women and children
there, makin\x92 thatch, cookin\x92, and repairin\x92 the pig-proof fencin\x92. I
stayed a bit, and then came on board again, an\x92 we made snug for the
night.

\x93Next morning we landed on the island, repaired two of the huts, and
started mendin\x92 sails, overhauling the boats, and doin\x92 such work that
it was easier to do on shore than on board. Of course we kep\x92 our arms
handy, and old Horn kep\x92 a good watch on board--he dassent put foot on
shore himself--said he was skeered o\x92 fever.

\x93The natives sent us plenty of food, and a good many of \x91em loafed
around on the island, and some on board the luggers and cutter, cadgin\x92
fur terbacker and biscuit Of course they always carried their clubs and
spears with \x91em, as is usual in New Ireland, but they were quiet and
civil enough. Every day canoes were passin\x92 from where we lay to the
main village, and returnin\x92 with other batches of bucks and women all
takin\x92 spells at work; an\x92 there was any amount o\x92 drum beating and _duk
duk_{*} dancin\x92, and old Horn shivered in his boots swearin\x92 they were
comin\x92 to wipe us out But my native crews and I and the other white
divers were used to the nigger customs at such times, and although
we kep\x92 a good watch ashore and afloat, none o\x92 us were afraid of any
trouble comin\x92.

     * The duk duk dance of Melanesia is merely a blackmailing
     ceremony by the men to obtain food from the women and the
     uninitiated.

\x93On the fifth night, I, another white diver, named Docky Mason, his
Samoan wife, and a Manahiki sailor named \x91Star\x92 were sleeping on shore
in one of the huts. In another hut were three or four New Ireland
niggers, who had brought us some fish and were going away again in the
mornin\x92.

\x93About ten o\x92clock the sky became as black as ink--a heavy blow was
comin\x92 on, and we just had time to stow our loose gear up tidy, when the
wind came down from between the mountains with a roar like thunder, and
away went the roofs of the huts, and with it nearly everything around us
that was not too heavy to be carried away. My own boat, which was lying
on the beach, was lifted up bodily, sent flyin\x92 into the water, and
carried out to sea.

\x93We tried to make out the cutter\x92s and luggers\x92 lights, but could see
nothing and every second the wind was yellin\x92 louder and louder like
forty thousand cats gone mad, and the air was filled with sticks,
leaves, and sand, and I had a mighty great fear for my little fleet; fur
three miles away to the west, there was a long stretch o\x92 reefs, an\x92 I
was afraid they had dragged and would get mussed up.

\x93Thet\x92s jest what did happen--though they cleared the reefs by the skin
of their teeth. The moment they began to drag, all three slipped. The
luggers stood away under the lee of New Ireland, stickin\x92 in to the
land, and tryin\x92 to bring to for shelter, but they were a hundred miles
away from me, down the coast, before they could bring-to and anchor,
for the blow had settled into a hurricane, and raised such a fearful sea
that they had to heave-to for twenty-four hours. It was two weeks before
we met again, after they had had to tow and \x91sweep\x92 back to my little
island, against a dead calm and a strong current, gettin\x92 a whiff of a
land breeze at night now an\x92 agin\x92, which let \x91em use their canvas. As
for the cutter, she ran before it for New Britain, and brought up at
Matupi in Blanche Bay, two hundred miles away, where old Horn knew
there was a white settlement of Germans--his own kidney. He was a
white-livered old swine, but a good sailor-man--as far as any man who
says \x91Ja\x92 for \x91Yes\x92 goes.

\x93When daylight came my mates and I set to work to straighten up.

\x93Docky Mason\x92s native wife--Tia--was a \x91whole waggon with a yaller dog
under the team\x92. She first of all made us some hot coffee, and gave us a
rousin\x92 breakfast; then she made the New Ireland bucks--who were wantin\x92
to swim to the mainland--turn to and put a new roof of coco-nut thatch
over our hut, although it was still blowin\x92 a ragin\x92 gale. My! thet gal
was a wonder! She hed eyes like stars, an\x92 red lips an\x92 shinin\x92 pearly
teeth, an\x92 a tongue like a whip-lash when she got mad, an\x92 Docky Mason
uster let her talk to him as if he was a nigger--an\x92 say nuthin\x92--excep\x92
givin\x92 a foolish laugh and then slouchin\x92 off. And yet she was as gentle
as a lamb to any of us fellows when we got fever, or had gone down under
more\x92n twenty fathoms, and was hauled up three parts dead and chokin\x92.

\x93Well, boss, we got to straights at last, although it was blowin\x92 as
hard as ever. We had a lot o\x92 gear on shore in that native house, for I
was intendin\x92 to beach the cutter an\x92 give her copper a scrubbin\x92 before
we started divin\x92 regular.

\x93There was near on a ton o\x92 twist terbacker in tierces (which we used
fur tradin\x92 with the niggers), a ton o\x92 biscuit in fifty pound tins,
boxes o\x92 red an\x92 yaller seed beads, an\x92 knives an\x92 axes, an\x92 a case
o\x92 dynamite, an\x92 heaps o\x92 things that was a direct invitation to the
niggers, an\x92 a challenge ter the Almighty to hev our silly throats cut.
And those four or five bucks, whilst Tia was hustlin\x92 them around, was
jest takin\x92 stock as they worked.

\x93By sunfall the wind an\x92 sea in the bay had gone down a bit; an\x92 the
bucks said that they would swim on shore (their canoe had been smashed
in the night) and bring us some food early in the mornin\x92. I gave \x91em
a bottle o\x92 Hollands, an\x92 my kind regards for the old barrelled-belly
swine of a chief, some terbacker fur themselves; and then, after they
had gone, looked to our Winchesters and pistols, which the bucks hadn\x92t
seen, fur we always kept \x91em outer sight, under our sleepin\x92 mats.

\x93\x91Paulo,\x92 sez Tia to me, speakin\x92 in Samoan (an\x92 cussin\x92 in English),
\x91you an\x92 Docky an\x92 \x93Star\x94 are a lot o\x92 blamed fools! You orter hev
shot all those bucks ez soon ez they hed finished. Didn\x92t you say that,
\x93Star\x94?\x92

\x93\x91Star\x92 had said \x91Yes\x92 to her, but being an unobtrusive sorter o\x92
Kanaka, he hadn\x92t said nuthin\x92 to us--thinkin\x92 we knew better\x92n him what
ter do.

\x93We kep\x92 a good watch all that day an\x92 the nex\x92 day, and then at sunset
two bucks in a canoe came off, bringing us six cooked pigeons from the
chief, with a message that he would come an\x92 see us in a day or two, and
bring men to build us better houses to live in until the luggers and the
cutter came back.

\x93We collared the two bucks and tied \x91em up, and then Tia made one of
\x91em eat part of a pigeon--she standin\x92 over him with a Winchester at his
ear. He ate it, an\x92 in ten minutes he was tyin\x92 himself up in knots, and
was a dead nigger in another quarter of an hour. The pigeons were all
poisoned.

\x93We kep\x92 the other nigger alive an\x92 told him that if he would tell us
what was a-goin\x92 on we\x92d let him off, and set him ashore, free.

\x93\x91At dawn to-morrow,\x92 says he, \x91Baian\x92 (the fat old chief) thought to
find you all dead, because of the poisoned pigeons sent to you. And
then he meant to take all the good things you have here, and set up your
heads in his _duk duk_ house.\x92

\x93Before daylight came, Docky Mason an\x92 \x91Star\x92 an\x92 me hed fixed up things
all serene ter give Baian and his cannibals a doin\x92. Fust ev all--to
show our prisoner that we meant business, Tia held up his right hand,
an\x92 Docky sent a Winchester bullet through it, an\x92 told him that he
would send one through his skull ef he didn\x92t do what he was told.

\x93Then we took two empty one gallon colza oil tins, and filled \x91em with
dynamite, tamped it down tight, and then ran short fuses through the
corks, and carried \x91em down to the place where our prisoner said Baian
and his crowd would land. It was a little bay, lined on each side by
pretty high, ragged coral boulders, covered with creepers. We stowed the
tins in readiness, and then brought our prisoner down, and told him
what to do when the time came. I guess thet thet nigger knew thet ef he
didn\x92t play straight he was a dead coon. Tia sat down jest behind him,
and every now and then touched his backbone with the muzzle ev her
pistol--jest ter show him she was keepin\x92 awake. At the same time he
wasn\x92t unwillin\x92, for he hed told us thet he and his dead mate were not
Baian\x92s men--they were slaves he had captured from a town he had raided
somewhere near North Cape, and they were liable to be killed and eaten
at any time if Baian\x92s crowd ran short of pig meat or turtle.

\x93A little bit higher up, Docky Mason, \x91Star\x92 an\x92 me, planted ourselves
with our Winchesters, an\x92 one of our boats\x92 whaler\x92s bomb guns, which
fired four pounds of slugs and deer shot, mixed up--the sorter thing,
boss, thet you an\x92 me may find mighty handy here in this very place, if
we get rushed sudden. We made a charcoal fire, and then frayed out the
ends of the dynamite fuses so thet they would light quickly.

\x93When daylight came, we caught sight of nigh on fifty canoes, all
crammed with niggers, paddlin\x92 like blazes to where we was cached, but
making no noise. Even if they hed we would not hev heard it, fur the
wind and the surf beatin\x92 on the reef would hev drowned it.

\x93On they came and rushed their canoes into the little cove, four
abreast, and Tia prodded our buck in the back, and told him to stand up
and talk to Baian, who was in one of the leadin\x92 canoes.

\x93Up he jumps.

\x93\x91Oh, Baian, Baian, great Baian,\x92 he called, \x91the two white men are dead
in their house, and we have the woman bound hand and foot.\x92

\x93\x91Good,\x92 said Baian with a fat chuckle, as he put one leg over the
gunwale of his canoe to step out, and the next moment I put a bullet
through him, and then Docky Mason lit the first charge o\x92 dynamite, and
slings it down, right inter the middle of the crowded canoes, and before
it went off he sent the second one after it.

\x93Boss, I hev seen some dynamite explosions in my time--especially when I
hev hed to blow up wrecks--but I hev never seen anything like thet. The
two shots killed over thirty niggers, wounded as many more, and stunned
a lot, who were drowned. Those who were not hurt swam out of the cove,
and neither Docky nor me had the heart to shoot any of \x91em--though we
might hev picked off a couple of dozen afore they got outer range.

\x93Before we could stop him our prisoner jumped down among the dead and
wounded, got a long knife, an\x92 in ten seconds he had Baian\x92s\x92 head off,
and held it up to us, grinning like a cat, on\x92y not so nice, ez he hed
jet black, betel-nut stained teeth, and red lips like a piece ev raw
beef.

\x93We hed no more trouble with the niggers after thet turn-up, you can bet
yer life.

\x93The buck stayed with us until the luggers came back, and a few days
after we landed him at his own village--ez rich ez Jay Gould, for we
gave him a musket with powder and ball, a cutlass, half a dozen pounds
ev red beads, and two hundred sticks of terbacker. I guess thet thet
nigger was able to buy himself all the wives he wanted, and be a \x91big
Injun\x92 fur the end of his days.\x94



CHAPTER II ~ THE OLD SEA LIFE

One Sunday morning--when I was about to leave the dear old city of
Sydney for an unpremeditated and long, long absence in cold northern
climes, I went for a farewell stroll around the Circular Quay, and,
standing on some high ground on the east side, looked down on the mass
of shipping below, flying the flags of all nations, and ranging from
a few hundred to ten thousand tons. Mail steamers, deep sea tramps,
\x93freezers,\x94 colliers--all crowded together, and among them but _one_
single sailing vessel--a Liverpool barque of 1,000 tons, loading wool.
She looked lost, abandoned, out of place, and my heart went out to her
as my eyes travelled from her shapely lines and graceful sheer, to her
lofty spars, tapering yards, and curving jibboom, the end of the latter
almost touching the stern rail of an ugly bloated-looking German tramp
steamer of 8,000 tons. On that very spot where I stood I, when a
boy, had played at the foot of lofty trees--now covered by hideous
ill-smelling wool stores--and had seen lying at the Circular Quay fifty
or sixty noble full-rigged ships and barques, many brigs and schooners,
and but _one_ steamer, a handsome brig-rigged craft, the _Avoca_, the
monthly P. and O. boat, which ran from Sydney to Melbourne to connect
with a larger ship.

Round the point were certainly a few other steamers, old-fashioned
heavily-rigged men-of-war, generally paddle-wheel craft; and, out of
sight, in Darling Harbour, a mile away, were others--coasters--none of
them reaching five hundred tons, and all either barque- or brig-rigged,
as was then the fashion.

And they all, sailers as well as the few steamers, were manned by
_sailor-men_, not by gangs of foreign paint-scrubbers, who generally
form a steamer\x92s crew of the present day--men who could no more handle a
bit of canvas than a cow could play the Wedding March--in fact there are
thousands of men nowadays earning wages on British ships as A.B.\x92s who
have never touched canvas except in the shape of tarpaulin hatch covers,
and whom it would be highly dangerous to put at the wheel of a sailing
ship--they would make a wreck of her in any kind of a breeze in a few
minutes.

In my boyhood days, nearly all the ships that came into Sydney Harbour
flying British colours were manned by men of British blood. Foreigners,
as a rule, were not liked by shipmasters, and their British shipmates in
the fo\x92c\x92stle resented their presence. One reason of this was that they
would always \x93ship\x94 at a lower rate of wage than Englishmen, and were
clannish. I have known of captains of favourite clipper passenger ships,
trading between London and the colonies, declining to ship a foreigner,
even an English-speaking Dane or Scandinavian, who make good sailor-men,
and are quiet, sober, and hardworking. Nowadays it is difficult to find
any English deep-sea ship or steamer, in which half of the hands for\x92ard
are not foreigners of some sort. And now practically the whole coasting
mercantile marine of the Australian colonies is manned by Germans,
Swedes, Danes, and Norwegians.

When I was a young man I sailed in ships in the South Sea trade which
had carried the same crew, voyage after voyage, for years, and there
was a distinct feeling of comradeship existing between officers and
crew that does not now exist. I well remember one gallant ship, the
_All Serene_ (a happy name), which was for ten years in the
Sydney-China trade. She was about the first colonial vessel to adopt
double-top-gallant yards, and many wise-heads prophesied all sorts of
dire mishaps from the innovation. On this ship (she was full rigged) was
a crew of nineteen men, and the majority of them had sailed in her for
eight years, although her captain was a bit of a \x93driver\x94. But they got
good wages, good food, and had a good ship under their feet--a ship with
a crack record as a fast sailer.

In contrast to the _All Serene_, was a handsome barque I once sailed
in as a passenger from Sydney to New Caledonia, where she was to load
nickel ore for Liverpool. Her captain and three mates were Britishers,
and smart sailor-men enough, the steward was a Chileno, the bos\x92un a
Swede; carpenter a Mecklenburger joiner (who, when told to repair the
fore-scuttle, which had been damaged by a heavy sea, did not know where
it was situated), the sailmaker a German, and of the twelve A.B.\x92s and
O.S.\x92s only one--a man of sixty-five years of age, was a Britisher; the
rest were of all nationalities. Three of them were Scandinavians and
were good sailor-men, the others were almost useless, and only fit to
scrub paint-work, and hardly one could be trusted at the wheel. The cook
was a Martinique nigger, and was not only a good cook, but a thorough
seaman, and he had the utmost contempt for what he called \x93dem mongrels
for\x92ard,\x94 especially those who were Dagoes. The captain and officers
certainly had reason to knock the crew about, for during an electrical
storm one night the ship was visited by St. Elmo\x92s fire, and the Dagoes
to a man refused duty, and would not go aloft, being terrified out
of their wits at the dazzling globes of fire running along the yards,
hissing and dancing, and illuminating the ocean for miles. They bolted
below, rigged up an altar and cross with some stump ends of candles, and
began to pray. Exasperated beyond endurance, the captain, officers, two
Norwegians, the nigger cook and I, after having shortened canvas, \x93went\x94
 for them, knocked the religious paraphernalia to smithereens, and drove
them on deck.

The nigger cook was really a devout Roman Catholic, but his seaman\x92s
soul revolted at their cowardice, and he so far lost his temper as to
seize a Portuguese by his black curly hair, throw him down, tear open
his shirt, and seize a leaden effigy of St. Jago do Compostella, which
he wore round his neck, and thrust it into his mouth. In after years
I saw Captain \x93Bully\x94 Hayes do the same thing, also with a Portuguese
sailor; but Hayes made the man actually swallow the little image--after
he had rolled it into a rough ball--saying that if St James was so
efficient to externally protect the wearer from dangers of the sea, that
he could do it still better in the stomach, where he (the saint) would
feel much warmer.

The barque, a month or so after I left her in Noumea, sailed from T\x92chio
in New Caledonia, and was never heard of again. She was overmasted, and
I have no doubt but that she capsized, and every one on board perished.
Had she been manned by English sailors, she would have reached her
destination in safety, for the captain and officers knew her faults and
that she was a tricky ship to sail with an unreliable crew.

In many ships in which I have sailed, in my younger days, no officer
considered it _infra dig_. for him, when not on watch, to go for\x92ard and
listen to some of the hands spinning yarns, especially when the subject
of their discourse turned upon matters of seamanship, the eccentricities
either of a ship herself or of her builders, etc. This unbending from
official dignity on the part of an officer was rarely abused by the
men--especially by the better-class sailor-man. He knew that \x93Mr.
Smith\x94 the chief officer who was then listening to his yarns and perhaps
afterwards spinning one himself, would in a few hours become a different
man when it was his watch on deck, and probably ask Tom Jones, A.B.,
what the blazes he meant by crawling aft to relieve the wheel like
an old woman with palsy. And Jones, A.B., would grin with respectful
diffidence, hurry his steps and bear no malice towards his superior.

Such incidents never occur now. There is no feeling of comradeship
between officer and \x93Jack\x94. Each distrusts the other.

I have not had much experience of steamers in the South Sea trade,
except as a passenger--most of my voyages having been made in sailing
craft, but on one occasion my firm had to charter a steamer for six
months, owing to the ship of which I was supercargo undergoing extensive
repairs.

The steamer, in addition to a general cargo, also carried 500 tons
of coal for the use of a British warship, engaged in \x93patrolling\x94 the
Solomon Islands, and I was told to \x93hurry along\x94. The ship\x92s company
were all strangers to me, and I saw at once I should not have a pleasant
time as supercargo. The crew were mostly alleged Englishmen, with a
sprinkling of foreigners, and the latter were a useless, lazy lot of
scamps. The engine-room staff were worse, and the captain and mate
seemed too terrified of them to bring them to their bearings. They (the
crew) were a bad type of \x93wharf rats,\x94 and showed such insolence to the
captain and mate that I urged both to put some of them in irons for a
few days. The second mate was the only officer who showed any spirit,
and he and I naturally stood together, agreeing to assist each other
if matters became serious, for the skipper and mate were a thoroughly
white-livered pair.

Just off San Cristoval, the firemen came to me, and asked me to sell
them a case of Hollands gin. I refused, and said one bottle was enough
at a time. They threatened to break into the trade-room, and help
themselves. I said that they would do so at their own peril--the first
man that stepped through the doorway would get hurt. They retired,
cursing me as a \x93mean hound\x94. The skipper said nothing. He, I am glad to
say, was not an Englishman, though he claimed to be. He was a Dane.

Arriving at a village on the coast of San Cristoval, where I had to
land stores for a trader, we found a rather heavy surf on, and the crew
refused to man a boat and take me on shore, on the plea that it was too
dangerous; a native boat\x92s crew would have smiled at the idea of danger,
and so also would any white sailor-man who was used to surf work.

Two days later, through their incapacity, they capsized a boat by
letting her broach-to in crossing a reef, and a hundred pounds\x92 worth of
trade goods were lost.

When we met the cruiser for whom the coals were destined, the second
mate and I told the commander in the presence of our own skipper that we
considered the latter unfit to have command of the steamer.

\x93Then put the mate in charge, if you consider your captain is
incapable,\x94 said the naval officer.

\x93The mate is no better,\x94 I said, \x93he is as incapable as the captain.\x94

\x93Then the second mate is the man.\x94

\x93I cannot navigate, sir,\x94 said the second mate.

The naval commander drew me aside, and we took \x93sweet counsel\x94 together.
Then he called our ruffianly scallywags of a crew on to the main deck,
eyed them up and down, and ignoring our captain, asked me how many pairs
of handcuffs were on board.

\x93Two only,\x94 I replied.

\x93Then I\x92ll send you half a dozen more. Clap \x91em on to some of these
fellows for a week, until they come to their senses.\x94

In half an hour the second mate and I had the satisfaction of seeing
four firemen and four A.B.\x92s in irons, which they wore for a week,
living on biscuit and water.

A few weeks later I engaged, on my own responsibility, ten good native
seamen, and for the rest of the voyage matters went fairly well, for the
captain plucked up courage, and became valorous when I told him that my
natives would make short work of their white shipmates, if the latter
again became mutinous.

Against this experience I have had many pleasant ones. In one dear old
brig, in which I sailed as supercargo for two years, we carried a double
crew--white men and natives of Rotumah Island, and a happier ship never
spread her canvas to the winds of the Pacific. This was purely because
the officers were good men, the hands--white and native--good seamen,
cheerful and obedient--not the lazy, dirty, paint-scrubbers one too
often meets with nowadays, especially on cheaply run big four-masted
sailing ships, flying the red ensign of Old England.



CHAPTER III ~ THE BLIND MAN OF ADMIRALTY ISLAND

We had had a stroke--or rather a series of strokes--of very bad luck.
Our vessel, the _Metaris_, had been for two months cruising among
the islands of what is now known as the Bismarck Archipelago, in the
Northwestern Pacific. We had twice been on shore, once on the coast
of New Ireland, and once on an unknown and uncharted reef between that
island and St. Matthias Island. Then, on calling at one of our trading
stations at New Hanover where we intended to beach the vessel for
repairs, we found that the trader had been killed, and of the station
house nothing remained but the charred centre-post--it had been reduced
to ashes. The place was situated on a little palm-clad islet not three
hundred acres in extent, and situated a mile or two from the mainland,
and abreast of a village containing about four hundred natives, under
whose protection our trader and his three Solomon Island labourers were
living, as the little island belonged to them, and we had placed the
trader there on account of its suitability, and also because the man
particularly wished to be quite apart from the village, fearing that his
Solomon Islanders would get themselves into trouble with the people.

From the excited natives, who boarded us even before we had dropped
anchor, we learned that about a month after we had left poor Chantrey
on his little island a large party of marauding St. Matthias Island
savages, in ten canoes, had suddenly appeared and swooped down upon
the unfortunate white man and his labourers and slaughtered all four of
them; then after loading their canoes with all the plunder they could
carry, they set fire to the house and Chantrey\x92s boat, and made off
again within a few hours.

This was a serious blow to us; for not only had we to deplore the cruel
death of one of our best and most trusted traders, but Chantrey had a
large stock of trade goods, a valuable boat, and had bought over five
hundred pounds\x92 worth of coconut oil and pearl-shell from the New
Hanover natives,--all this had been consumed. However, it was of no use
for us to grieve, we had work to do that was of pressing necessity,
for the _Metaris_ was leaking badly and had to be put on the beach
as quickly as possible whilst we had fine weather. This, with the
assistance of the natives, we at once set about and in the course of
a few days had effected all the necessary repairs, and then steered
westward for Admiralty Island, calling at various islands on our way,
trading with the wild natives for coco-nut oil, copra, ivory nuts,
pearl-shell and tortoise-shell, and doing very poorly; for a large
American schooner, engaged in the same business, had been ahead of us,
and at most of the islands we touched at we secured nothing more than
a few hundredweight of black-edged pearl-shell. Then, to add to our
troubles, two of our native crew were badly wounded in an attack made on
a boat\x92s crew who were sent on shore to cut firewood on what the skipper
and I thought to be a chain of small uninhabited islands. This was a
rather serious matter, for not only were the captain and boatswain ill
with fever, but three of the crew as well.

For a week we worked along the southern coast of Admiralty Island,
calling at a number of villages and obtaining a considerable quantity of
very good pearl-shell from the natives. But it was a harassing time, for
having seven sick men on board we never dared to come to an anchor for
fear of the savage and treacherous natives attempting to capture the
ship. As it was, we had to keep a sharp look-out to prevent more than
two canoes coming alongside at once, and then only when there was a fair
breeze, so that we could shake them off if their occupants showed any
inclination for mischief. We several times heard some of these gentry
commenting on the ship being so short-handed, and this made us unusually
careful, for although those of us who were well never moved about
unarmed we could not have beaten back a sudden rush.

At last, however, both Manson and the boatswain, and one of the native
sailors became so ill that the former decided to make a break in the
cruise and let all hands--sick and well--have a week\x92s spell at a place
he knew of, situated at the west end of the great island; and so one day
we sailed the _Metaris_ into a quiet little bay, encompassed by lofty
well-wooded hills, and at the head of which was a fine stream of fresh
water.

\x93We shall soon pull ourselves together in this place,\x94 said Manson to
Loring (the mate) and me. \x93I know this little bay well, though \x91tis six
years since I was last here. There are no native villages within ten
miles at least, and we shall be quite safe, so we need only keep an
anchor watch at night. Man the boat, there. I must get on shore right
away. I am feeling better already for being here. Which of you fellows
will come with me for a bit of a look round?\x94

I, being the supercargo, was, for the time, an idle man, but made an
excuse of \x93wanting to overhaul\x94 my trade-room--always a good standing
excuse with most supercargoes--as I wanted Loring to have a few hours
on shore; for although he was free of fever he was pretty well run down
with overwork. So, after some pressure, he consented, and a few minutes
later he and Manson were pulled on shore, and I watched them land on
the beach, just in front of a clump of wild mango trees in full bearing,
almost surrounded by groves of lofty coco-nut palms. A little farther on
was an open, grassy space on which grew some wide-branched white cedar
trees.

About an hour afterwards Loring returned on board, and told me that
Manson had gone on alone to what he described as \x93a sweet little lake\x94.
It was only a mile away, and he thought of having a leaf house built
there for the sick men and himself, and wanted Loring to come and have a
look at it, but the mate declined, pleading his wish to get back to the
ship and unbend our canvas.

\x93As you will,\x94 said Manson to him. \x93I shall be all right. I\x92ll shoot
some pigeons and cockatoos by-and-by, and bring them down to the beach.
And after you have unbent the canvas, you can take the seine to the
mouth of the creek and fill the boat with fish.\x94 Then, gun on shoulder,
he walked slowly away into the verdant and silent forest.

After unbending our canvas, we went to dinner; and then leaving Loring
in charge of the ship, the boatswain, two hands and myself went on
shore with the seine to the mouth of the creek, and in a very short time
netted some hundreds of fish much resembling the European shad.

Just as we were about to push off, I heard Manson\x92s hail close to,
and looking round, nearly lost my balance and fell overboard in
astonishment--he was accompanied by a woman.

Springing out of the boat, I ran to meet them.

\x93Mrs. Hollister,\x94 said the captain, \x93this is my supercargo. As soon as
we get on board I will place you in his hands, and he will give you all
the clothing you want at present for yourself and your little girl,\x94 and
then as, after I had shaken hands with the lady, I stood staring at him
for an explanation, he smiled.

\x93I\x92ll tell you Mrs. Hollister\x92s strange story by-and-by, old man.
Briefly it is this--she, her husband, and their little girl have been
living here for over two years. Their vessel was castaway here. Now, get
into the boat, please, Mrs. Hollister.\x94

The woman, who was weeping silently with excitement, smiled through her
tears, stepped into the boat, and in a few minutes we were alongside.

\x93Make all the haste you can,\x94 Manson said to me, \x93as Mrs. Hollister is
returning on shore as soon as you can give her some clothing and boots
or shoes. Then they are all coming on board to supper at eight o\x92clock.\x94

The lady came with me to my trade-room, and we soon went to work
together, I forbearing to ask her any questions whatever, though I was
as full of curiosity as a woman. Like that of all trading vessels
whose \x93run\x94 embraced the islands of Polynesia as well as Melanesia and
Micronesia, the trade-room of the _Metaris_ was a general store.
The shelves and cases were filled with all sorts of articles--tinned
provisions, wines and spirits, firearms and ammunition, hardware and
drapers\x92 soft goods, \x93yellow-back\x94 novels, ready-made clothing for men,
women and children, musical instruments and grindstones--in fact just
such a stock as one would find in a well-stocked general store in an
Australian country town.

In half an hour Mrs. Hollister had found all that she wanted, and
packing the articles in a \x93trade\x94 chest, I had it passed on deck and
lowered into the boat. Then the lady, now smiling radiantly, shook hands
with every one, including the steward, and descended to the boat which
quickly cast off and made for the shore in charge of the boatswain.

Then I felt that I deserved a drink, and went below again where Manson
and Loring were awaiting me. They had anticipated my wishes, for the
steward had just placed the necessary liquids on the cabin table.

\x93Now, boys,\x94 said the skipper, as he opened some soda water, \x93after we
have had a first drink I\x92ll spin my yarn--and a sad enough one it is,
too. By-the-way, steward, did you put that bottle of brandy and some
soda water in the boat?\x94

\x93Yes, sir.\x94

\x93That\x92s all right. Just fancy, you fellows--that poor chap on shore has
not had a glass of grog for more than two years. That is, I suppose so.
Anyway I am sending him some. And, I say, steward; I want you to spread
yourself this evening and give us _the_ very best supper you ever gave
us. There are three white persons coming at eight o\x92clock. And I daresay
they will sleep on board, so get ready three spare bunks.\x94

Manson was usually a slow, drawling speaker--except when he had occasion
to admonish the crew; then he was quite brilliant in the rapidity of
his remarks--but now he was clearly a little excited and seemed to have
shaken the fever out of his bones, for he not only drank his brandy and
soda as if he enjoyed it, but asked the steward to bring him his pipe.
This latter request was a sure sign that he was getting better. Then he
began his story.

*****

Although six years had passed since he had visited this part of the
great island, Manson knew his way inland to the lake. The forest was
open, and consisted of teak and cedar with but little undergrowth.
Suddenly, as he was passing under the spreading branches of a great
cedar, he saw something that made him stare with astonishment--a little
white girl, driving before her a flock of goats! She was dressed in
a loose gown of blue print, and wore an old-fashioned white linen
sun-bonnet, and her bare legs and feet were tanned a deep brown. Only
for a moment did he see her face as she faced towards him to hurry up a
playful kid that had broken away from the flock, and then her back was
again turned, and she went on, quite unaware of his presence.

\x93Little girl,\x94 he called.

Something like a cry of terror escaped her lips as she turned to him.

\x93Oh, sir,\x94 she cried in trembling tones, \x93you frightened me.\x94

\x93I am so sorry, my dear. Who are you? Where do you live?\x94

\x93Just by the lake, sir, with my father and mother.\x94

\x93May I come with you and see them?\x94

\x93Oh, yes, sir. We have never seen any one since we came here more than
two years ago. When did you come, sir?\x94

\x93Only this morning. My vessel is anchored in the little cove.\x94

\x93Oh, I am so glad, so glad! My father and mother too will be so glad to
meet you. But he cannot see you--I mean see you with his eyes--for he is
blind. When our ship was wrecked here the lightning struck him, and took
away his eyesight.\x94

Deeply interested as he was, Manson forbore to question the child any
further, and walked beside her in silence till they came in view of the
lake.

\x93Look, sir, there is our house. Mother and Fiji Sam, the sailor, built
it, and I helped. Isn\x92t it nice? See, there are my father and mother
waiting for me.\x94

On the margin of a lovely little lake, less than a mile in
circumference, was a comfortably built house, semi-native, semi-European
in construction, and surrounded by a garden of gorgeous-hued coleus,
crotons, and other indigenous plants, and even the palings which
enclosed it were of growing saplings, so evenly trimmed as to resemble
an ivy-grown wall.

Seated in front of the open door were a man and woman. The latter rose
and came to meet Manson, who raised his hat as the lady held out her
hand, and he told her who he was.

\x93Come inside,\x94 she said, in a soft, pleasant voice. \x93This is my husband,
Captain Hollister. Our vessel was lost on this island twenty-eight
months ago, and you are the first white man we have seen since then.\x94

The blind man made his visitor welcome, but without effusion, and begged
him to be seated. What especially struck Manson was the calm, quiet
manner of all three. They received him as if they were used to seeing
strangers, and betrayed no unusual agitation. Yet they were deeply
thankful for his coming. The house consisted of three rooms, and had
been made extremely comfortable by articles of cabin furniture. The
table was laid for breakfast, and as Manson sat down, the little girl
hurriedly milked a goat, and brought in a small gourd of milk. In a
few minutes Hollister\x92s slight reserve had worn off, and he related his
strange story.

His vessel (of which he was owner) was a topsail schooner of 130 tons,
and had sailed from Singapore in a trading cruise among the Pacific
Islands. For the first four months all went well. Many islands had been
visited with satisfactory results, and then came disaster, swift and
terrible. Hollister told of it in few and simple words.

\x93We were in sight of this island and in the middle watch were becalmed.
The night was close and sultry, and we had made all ready for a blow
of some sort. For two hours we waited, and then in an instant the whole
heavens were alight with chain and fork lightning. My Malay crew bolted
below, and as they reached the fore-scuttle, two of them were struck
dead, and flames burst out on the fore-part of the ship. I sprang
forward, and was half-way along the deck, when I, too, was struck down.
For an hour I was unconscious, and when I revived knew that my sight was
gone for ever.

\x93My mate was a good seaman, but old and wanting in nerve. Still, with
the aid of some of the terrified crew, and amidst a torrential downpour
of rain which almost immediately began to fall, he did what he could to
save the ship. In half an hour the rain ceased, and then the wind came
with hurricane force from the southward; the crew again bolted, and
refused to come on deck, and the poor mate in trying to heave-to was
washed away from the wheel, together with the Malay serang--the only man
who stuck to him. There were now left on board alive four Malays, one
Fijian A.B. named Sam, my wife and child and myself. And I, of course,
was helpless.

\x93\x91Fiji Sam\x92 was a plucky fellow. Aided by my wife, he succeeded in
putting the schooner before the wind and letting her drive to the
N.N.W., feeling sure that she would be giving the land a wide berth.
Unfortunately he did not count upon a four-knot current setting to the
eastward, and just as daylight was breaking we tore clean over the reef
at high water into a little bay two miles from here. The water was so
deep, and the place so sheltered, that the schooner drifted in among the
branches of the trees lining the beach, and lay there as quiet as if she
were moored to a wharf.

\x93Two days later the Malays seized the dinghy, taking with them
provisions and arms, and deserted me. What became of them I do not know.

\x93Fiji Sam found this lake, and here we built this house, after removing
all that we could from the ship, for she was leaking, and settled down
upon her keel. She is there still, but of no use.

\x93When we ran ashore we had in the hold some goats and pigs, which I had
bought at Anchorites\x92 Island. The goats kept with us, but the pigs went
wild, and took to the bush. In endeavouring to shoot one, poor Fiji
Sam lost his life--his rifle caught in a vine and went off, the bullet
passing through his body.

\x93Not once since the wreck have we seen a single native, though on clear
days we often see smoke about fifteen miles along the coast. Anyway,
none have come near us--for which I am very glad.\x94

Manson remarked that that was fortunate as they were \x93a bad lot\x94.

\x93So we have been living here quietly for over two years. Twice only have
we seen a sail, but only on the horizon. And I, having neither boat nor
canoe, and being blind, was helpless.\x94

\x93That is the poor fellow\x92s story,\x94 concluded Manson. \x93Of course I will
give them a passage to Levuka, and we must otherwise do our best for
them. Although Hollister has lost every penny he had in the world, his
wife tells me that she owns some property in Singapore, where she also
has a brother who is in business there. By Jove, boys, I wish you
had been with me when I said \x91Thank God, I have found you, Captain
Hollister,\x92 and the poor fellow sighed and turned his face away as he
held out his hand to me, and his wife drew him to her bosom.\x94



CHAPTER IV ~ NIS\xC2N ISLAND; A TALE OF THE OLD TRADING DAYS

When I was first learning the ropes as a \x93recruiter\x94 in the Kanaka
labour trade, recruiting natives to work on the plantations of Samoa and
Fiji, we called at a group of islands called Nis\xE2n by the natives,
and marked on the chart as the Sir Charles Hardy Islands. I thought
it likely that I might obtain a few \x93recruits,\x94 and the captain wanted
fresh provisions.

The group lies between the south end of New Ireland and the north end of
the great Bougainville Island in the Solomon Archipelago, and consists
of six low, well-wooded and fertile islands, enclosed within a barrier
reef, forming a noble atoll, almost circular in shape. All the islands
are thickly populated at the present day by natives, who are peaceable
enough, and engage in _b\xEAche-de-mer_ and pearl-shell fishing. Less than
forty years back they were notorious cannibals, and very warlike, and
never hesitated to attempt to cut off any whaleship or trading vessel
that was not well manned and well armed.

As I had visited the group on three previous occasions in a trading
vessel and was well known to the people, I was pretty sure of getting
some \x93recruits\x94 for Samoa, for our vessel had a good reputation. So,
lowering our boats, the second mate and I went on shore, and were
pleasantly received. But, alas for my hopes! I could not get a single
native to recruit They were, they said, now doing so well at curing
_b\xEAche-de-mer_ for a Sydney trading vessel that none of the young men
cared to leave the island to work on a plantation for three years; in
addition to this, never before had food been so plentiful--pigs and
poultry abounded, and turtle were netted by hundreds at a time. In proof
of their assertion as to the abundance of provisions, I bought from
them, for trade goods worth about ten dollars, a boat-load of turtle,
pigs, ducks, fowls, eggs and fish. These I sent off to the ship by the
second mate, and told him to return for another load of bread-fruit,
taro, and other vegetables and fruit. I also sent a note to the captain
by my own boat, telling him to come on shore and bring our guns and
plenty of cartridges, as the islands were alive with countless thousands
of fine, heavy pigeons, which were paying the group their annual visit
from the mountainous forests of Bougainville Island and New Ireland.
They literally swarmed on a small uninhabited island, covered with
bread-fruit and other trees, and used by the natives as a sort of
pleasure resort.

The two boats returned together, and leaving the second mate to buy more
pigs and turtle--for we had eighty-five \x93recruits\x94 on board to feed, as
well as the ship\x92s company of twenty-eight persons--the skipper and I
started off in my boat for the little island, accompanied by several
young Nis\xE2n \x93bucks\x94 carrying old smooth-bore muskets, for they, too,
wanted to join in the sport I had given them some tins of powder, shot,
and a few hundred military caps. We landed on a beautiful white beach,
and telling our boat\x92s crew to return to the village and help the second
mate, the skipper and I, with the Nis\xE2n natives, walked up the bank,
and in a few minutes the guns were at work. Never before had I seen
such thousands of pigeons in so small an area. It could hardly be called
sport, for the birds were so thick on the trees that when a native fired
at haphazard into the branches the heavy charge of shot would bring them
down by the dozen--the remainder would simply fly off to the next tree.
Owing to the dense foliage the skipper and I seldom got a shot at them
on the wing, and had to slaughter like the natives, consoling ourselves
with the fact that every bird would be eaten. Most of them were so fat
that it was impossible to pluck them without the skin coming away,
and from the boat-load we took on board the skip\x92s cook obtained a
ten-gallon keg full of fat.

About noon we ceased, to have something to eat and drink, and chose for
our camp a fairly open spot, higher than the rest of the island, and
growing on which were some magnificent trees, bearing a fruit called
vi. It is in reality a wild mango, but instead of containing the smooth
oval-shaped seed of the mango family, it has a round, root-like and
spiky core. The fruit, however, is of a delicious flavour, and when
fully ripe melts in one\x92s mouth. Whilst our native friends were grilling
some birds, and getting us some young coco-nuts to drink, the captain
and I, taking some short and heavy pieces of wood, began throwing them
at the ripe fruit overhead. Suddenly my companion tripped over something
and fell.

\x93Hallo, what is this?\x94 he exclaimed, as he rose and looked at the cause
of his mishap.

It was the end of a bar of pig-iron ballast, protruding some inches
out of the soft soil. We worked it to and fro, and then pulled it out.
Wondering how it came there, we left it and resumed our stick-throwing,
when we discovered three more on the other side of the tree; they were
lying amid the ruins of an old wall, built of coral-stone slabs. We
questioned the natives as to how these \x93pigs\x94 came to be there. They
replied that, long before their time, a small vessel had come into
the lagoon and anchored, and that the crew had thrown the bars of iron
overboard. After the schooner had sailed away, the natives had dived for
and recovered the iron, and had tried to soften the bars by fire in the
hope of being able to turn it into axes, etc.

We accepted the story as true, and thought no more about it, though we
wondered why such useful, compact and heavy ballast should be thrown
away, and when my boat returned to take us to the ship, we took the iron
\x93pigs\x94 with us.

Arriving at Samoa, we soon rid ourselves of our eighty-five
\x93blackbirds,\x94 who had all behaved very well on the voyage, and were
sorry to leave the ship; and that evening I paid a visit to an old
friend of mine--an American who kept a large store in Apia, the
principal port and town of Samoa. I was telling him all about our
cruise, when an old white man, locally known as \x93Bandy Tom,\x94 came up
from the yard, and sat down on the verandah steps near us. Old Tom was a
character, and well known all over Polynesia as an inveterate old loafer
and beachcomber. He was a deserter from the navy, and for over forty
years had wandered about the South Pacific, sometimes working honestly
for a living, sometimes dishonestly, but usually loafing upon some
native community, until they tired of him and made him seek fresh
pastures. In his old age he had come to Samoa, and my friend, taking
pity on the penniless old wreck, gave him employment as night watchman,
and let him hang about the premises and do odd jobs in the day-time.
With all his faults he was an amusing ancient, and was known for his
\x93tall\x94 yarns about his experiences with cannibals in Fiji.

Bidding me \x93good-evening,\x94 Bandy Tom puffed away at his pipe, and
listened to what I was saying. When I had finished describing our visit
to Nis\xE2n, and the finding of the ballast, he interrupted.

\x93I can tell you where them \x91pigs\x92 come from, and all about
\x91em--leastways a good deal; for I knows more about the matter than any
one else.\x94

Parker laughed. \x93Bandy, you know, or pretend to know, about everything
that has happened in the South Seas since the time of Captain Cook.\x94

\x93Ah, you can laugh as much as you like, boss,\x94 said the old fellow
serenely, \x93but I know what I\x92m talkin\x92 about I ain\x92t the old gas-bag you
think I am. I lived on Nis\xE2n for a year an\x92 ten months, nigh on thirty
years ago, gettin\x92 _b\xEAche-de-mer_ for Captain Bobby Towns of Sydney.\x94
 Then turning to me he added: \x93I ain\x92t got too bad a memory, for all my
age. I can tell you the names of all the six islands, and how they lies,
an\x92 a good deal about the people an\x92 the queer way they has of catchin\x92
turtle in rope nets; an\x92 I can tell you the names of the head men that
was there in my time--which was about \x91fifty or \x91fifty-one. Just you try
me an\x92 see.\x94

I did try him, and he very soon satisfied me that he had lived on the
Sir Charles Hardy Islands, and knew the place well. Then he told his
story, which I condense as much as possible.



FIRST PART

Bandy was landed at Nis\xE2n by Captain Robert Towns of the barque
_Adventurer_ of Sydney, to collect _b\xEAche-de-mer_. He was well received
by the savage inhabitants and provided with a house, and well treated
generally, for Captain Towns, knowing the natives to be cannibals and
treacherous, had demanded a pledge from them that Bandy should not be
harmed, and threatened that if on his return in the following year he
found the white man was missing, he would land his crew, and destroy
them to the last man. Then the barque sailed. A day or so afterwards
Bandy was visited by a native, who was very different in appearance
from the Nis\xE2n people. He spoke to the white man in good English, and
informed him that he was a native of the island of Rotumah, but had been
living on Nis\xE2n for more than twenty years, had married, had a family,
and was well thought of by the people. The two became great friends, and
Taula, as the Rotumah man was named, took Bandy into his confidence, and
told him of a tragedy that had occurred on Nis\xE2n about five or six years
after he (Taula) had landed on the islands. He was one of the crew of a
whaleship which, on a dark night, nearly ran ashore on Nis\xE2n, and in the
hurry and confusion of the vessels going about he slipped over the side,
swam on shore through the surf, and reached the land safely.

One day, said Taula, the natives were thrown into a state of wild
excitement by the appearance of a brigantine, which boldly dropped
anchor abreast of the principal village. She was the first vessel
that had ever stopped at the islands, and the savage natives instantly
planned to capture her and massacre the crew. But they resolved to first
put the white men off their guard. Taula, however, did not know this at
the time. With a number of the Nis\xE2n people he went on board, taking
an ample supply of provisions. The brigantine had a large crew and was
heavily armed, carrying ten guns, and the natives were allowed to board
in numbers. The captain had with him his wife, whom Taula described as
being quite a young girl. He questioned the natives about pearl-shell
and _b\xEAche-de-mer_ and a few hours later, by personal inspection,
satisfied himself that the atoll abounded with both. He made a treaty
with the apparently friendly people, and at once landed a party to build
houses, etc.

I must now, for reasons that will appear later on, hurry over Taula\x92s
story as told by him to Bandy.

Eight or ten days after the arrival of the brigantine, the shore
party of fourteen white men were treacherously attacked, and thirteen
ruthlessly slaughtered. One who escaped was kept as a slave, and the
brigantine, to avoid capture, hurriedly put to sea.

Six months or so passed, and the vessel again appeared and anchored,
this time on a mission of vengeance. The natives, nevertheless, were not
alarmed, and again determined to get possession of the ship, although
this time her decks were crowded with men. They attacked her in canoes,
were repulsed, returned to the shore and then, with incredible audacity,
sent the white sailor whom they had captured on board the vessel to make
peace. But not for a moment had they relinquished the determination to
capture the vessel, which they decided to effect by treachery, if force
could not be used. What followed was related in detail by Taula to
Bandy.

Parker and I were deeply interested in Bandy\x92s story, and at its
conclusion I asked him if his informant knew the name of the ship and
her nationality.

\x93Not her name, sir; but she was an American. Taula knew the American
flag, for the ship he ran away from was a Sag harbour whaler. The
pig-iron bars which you found were brought ashore to make a bed for the
_b\xEAche-de-mer_ curing pots. He showed \x91em to me one day.\x94

Both Parker and I were convinced of the truth of Bandy\x92s story, and came
to the conclusion that the unknown brigantine was probably a colonial
trader, which had afterwards been lost with all hands. For we were
both fairly well up in the past history of the South Seas--at least we
thought so--and had never heard of this affair at the Sir Charles Hardy
Group. But we were entirely mistaken in our assumptions.

In the month of April in the year 1906, after a lapse of more than five
and twenty years, the mystery that enshrouded the tragedy of Nis\xE2n
was revealed to me by my coming across, in a French town, a small,
time-stained and faded volume of 230 pages, and published by J. and J.
Harper of New York in 1833, and entitled _Narrative of a Voyage to the
Ethiopie and South Atlantic Ocean, Indian Ocean, Chinese Sea, North
and South Pacific Ocean in the years_ 1829, 1830, 1831, by Abby Jane
Morrell, who accompanied her husband, Captain Benjamin Morrell, Junior,
of the schooner _Antarctic_.

Now to her story,



SECOND PART

Opening the faded little volume, the reader sees a wood-engraving of the
authoress, a remarkably handsome young woman of about twenty years of
age, dressed in the quaint fashion of those days. As a matter of fact
she was only four and twenty when her book was published. In a brief
preface she tells us that her object in writing a book was not for the
purpose of exciting interest in her own experiences of a remarkable
voyage, but in the hope that it would arouse philanthropic endeavour to
ameliorate the condition of American seamen. Throughout the volume there
is a vein of deep, yet unobtrusive piety, and the reader is struck with
her self-effacement, her courage, her reverent admiration for her young
sailor husband, and her pride in his gallant ship and sturdy crew of
native-born American seamen. In the _Antarctic_ the young couple sailed
many seas, and visited many lands, and everywhere they seem to have been
the recipients of unbounded hospitality and attention, especially from
their own country people, and English merchants, and naval and military
men. It is very evident--even if only judging from her picture--that she
was a very charming young lady of the utmost vivacity; and in addition
to this, she was an accomplished linguist, and otherwise highly
educated. Her beauty, indeed, caused her many tears, owing to the
\x93wicked and persistent attentions\x94 of the American consul at Manila.
This gentleman appears to have set himself to work to make Mrs. Morrell
a widow, until at last--her husband being away at sea--she had to be
guarded from his persistent advances by some of the English and American
families resident in Manila. She tells the story in the most naive and
delightful manner, and the reader\x92s heart warms to the little woman. But
I must not diverge from the subject.

\x93I am,\x94 she says, \x93the daughter of Captain John Wood, of New York, who
died at New Orleans on the 14th of November, 1811. He was then master
of the ship _Indian Hunter_.... He died when I was so young that if I
pleased myself with thinking that I remember him, I could not have been
a judge of his virtues; but it has been a source of happiness to me that
he is spoken of by his contemporaries as a man of good sense and great
integrity.\x94

When fifteen years of age Miss Wood met her cousin, Captain Morrell,
a young man who had gained a reputation for seamanship, and as a
navigator. They were mutually attracted to each other, and in a few
months were married. Then he sailed away on a two years\x92 voyage,
returned, and again set out, this time to the little known South Seas.
Absent a year--during which time a son was born to him--he was so
pleased with the financial results of the voyage that he determined on
a second; and his wife insisted on accompanying him, though he pleaded
with her to remain, and told her of the dangers and terrors of a long
voyage in unknown seas, the islands of which were peopled by ferocious
and treacherous cannibals. But she was not to be deterred from sharing
her husband\x92s perils, and with an aching heart took farewell of her
infant son, whom she left in care of her mother, and on 2nd September,
1829, the _Antarctic_ sailed from New York. The cruise was to last two
years, and the object of it was to seek for new sealing grounds in the
Southern Ocean, and then go northward to the Pacific Islands and
barter with the natives for sandal-wood, _b\xEAche-de-mer_ pearls, and
pearl-shell.

The crew of the brigantine were picked men, and all of them gave Morrell
a written pledge to abstain from drinking spirits of any kind during the
entire voyage. Morrell, though a strict disciplinarian, seems to have
had their respect and even affection throughout, and that he was a man
of iron resolution and dauntless courage the book gives ample testimony.

After some months\x92 sealing at the Auckland Islands, and visiting New
Zealand, where the Morrells were entertained by the missionary, John
Williams, the brigantine made a highly successful cruise among the
islands of the South Pacific, and then Morrell went to Manila to dispose
of his valuable cargo. This he did to great advantage, and once more his
restless, daring spirit impelled him tot make another voyage among the
islands. This time, however, he left his wife in Manila, where she soon
found many friends, who protected her from the annoying attentions of
the consul, and nursed her through a severe illness.

\x93On the seventy-fifth day after the sailing of the _Antarctic?_\x94 she
writes, \x93as I was looking with a glass from my window, as I had done for
many days previously, I saw my husband\x92s well-known signal at the mast
head of an approaching vessel.... I was no sooner on board than I found
myself in my husband\x92s arms; but the scene was too much for my enfeebled
frame, and I was for some time insensible. On coming to myself, I looked
around and saw my brother, pale and emaciated. My forebodings were
dreadful when I perceived that the number of the crew was sadly
diminished from what it was when I was last on board. I dared not
trust myself to make any inquiries, and all seemed desirous to avoid
explanations. I could not rest in this state of mind, and ventured to
ask what had become of the men. My husband, with his usual frankness,
sat down and detailed to me the whole affair, which was as follows:--


                   A TALE OF THE OLD TRADING DAYS

\x93It seems that six weeks after leaving Manila\x94 (here I omit some
unimportant details) \x93he came to six islands that were surrounded by
a coral reef.\x94 (The Sir Charles Hardy Group.) \x93Here was a-plenty of
_b\xEAche-de-mer_ and he made up his mind to get a cargo of this, and what
shell he could procure.... On May 21st he sent a boat\x92s crew on shore to
clear away the brush and prepare a place to cure the _b\xEAche-de-mer_. The
natives now came off to the vessel, and seemed quiet, although it was
evident that they had never seen a white man before, and the islands
bore no trace of ever having been visited by civilised men. The people
were a large, savage-looking race, but Mr. Morrell was lulled to
security by their civil and harmless (_sic_) appearance, and their
fondness of visiting the vessel to exchange their fruits for trinkets
and other commodities attractive to the savages in these climes. They
were shown in perfect friendship all parts of the vessel, and appeared
pleased with the attentions paid them.... A boat was sent on shore with
the forge and all the blacksmith\x92s tools, but the savages soon stole the
greater part of them.

\x93This was an unpropitious circumstance, but Mr. Morrell thought that he
could easily recover them; and to accomplish this, he took six of his
men, well armed, and marched directly to the village where the king
lived. This was a lovely place, formed in a grove of trees. Here he met
two hundred warriors, all painted for battle, armed with bows and arrows
ready for an onset, waving their war plumes, and eager to engage. On
turning round he saw nearly as many more in his rear--it was a critical
moment--the slightest fear was sure death. Mr. Morrell addressed his
comrades, and, in a word, told them that if they did not act in concert,
and in the most dauntless manner, death would be inevitable. He then
threw down his musket, drew his cutlass, and holding a pistol in his
right hand, he pushed for the king, knowing in what reverence savages in
general hold the person of their monarch. In an instant the pistol was
at the king\x92s breast, and the cutlass waved over his head. The savages
had arrowed their bows, and were ready at the slightest signal to have
shot a cloud of missiles at the handful of white men; but in an instant,
when they saw the danger of their king, they dropped their bows to the
ground. At this fortunate moment, the captain marched around the circle,
and compelled those who had come with war-clubs to throw those down
also; all which he ordered his men to secure and collect inta a heap.
The king was then conducted with several of his chiefs on board the
_Antarctic_, and kept until the next day. They were treated with every
attention, but strictly guarded all night On the following morning he
gave them a good breakfast, loaded them with presents--for which they
seemed grateful, and laboured hard to convince their conqueror that they
were friendly to him and his crew--sent them on shore, together with
some of his men, to go on with the works which had been commenced; but
feeling that a double caution was necessary, he sent a reinforcement
to his men on shore, well armed.... All were cautioned to be on their
guard; but everything was unavailing; for not long after this, a general
attack was made on the men from the woods, in so sudden a manner that
they were overthrown at once. Two of the crew who were in the small
boat, made their escape out of reach of the arrows, and had the good
fortune to pick up three others who had thrown themselves into the water
for safety. On hearing the horrid yells of the savages, the whaleboat
was sent with ten men, who, with great exertions, saved two more of
the crew. The rest all fell, at one untimely moment, victims to savage
barbarity! It was an awful and heart-sickening moment; fourteen of the
crew had perished--they were murdered, mangled, and their corpses
thrown upon the strand without the possibility of receiving the rites
of Christian burial.... Four of the survivors were wounded--the heat was
intolerable--the spirits of the crew were broken down, and a sickness
came over their hearts that could not be controlled by the power of
medicine--a sickness arising from moral causes, that would not yield to
science nor art.

\x93In this situation Captain Morrell made the best of his way for
Manila.... I grew pale over the narrative; it filled my dreams for many
nights, and occupied my thoughts for many days, almost exclusively....
I dreaded the thought of the mention of the deed, and yet I wished I
had been there. I might have done some good, or, if not, I might have
assisted to dress the wounded, among whom was my own dear, heroic
brother. He received an arrow in the breast, but his good constitution
soon got over the shock; though he was pale even when I saw him, so
many days after the event. My husband had now lost everything but his
courage, his honour, and his perseverance; but the better part of the
community of Manila had become his friends, while the American consul
was delighted with our misfortunes. He was alone!\x94



THIRD PART

Nothing daunted by this catastrophe Captain Morrell petitioned the
Captain-General of the Philippines for leave to take out a new crew
of seventy additional men--sixty-six Manila men, and four Europeans.
Everyone warned him of the danger of this--no other ship had ever dared
take more than six Manila men as part of her complement, for they were
treacherous, and prone to mutiny. But Morrell contested that he would
be able to manage them and the captain-general yielded. Two English
merchants, Messrs. Cannell and Gellis, generously lent him all the money
he required to fit out, taking only his I.O.U. So:--

\x93On the 18th July, 1830, the _Antarctic_ again sailed for Massacre
Islands, as my husband had named the group where he lost his men. When
I went on board I found a crew of eighty-five men, fifty-five of them
savages as fierce as those whom we were about to encounter, and as
dangerous, if not properly managed. One would have thought that I should
have shrunk from this assemblage as from those of Massacre Islands, but
I entered my cabin with a light step; I did not fear savage men half
so much as I did a civilised brute. I was with my husband; he was not
afraid, why should I be? This was my reasoning, and I found it safe.

\x93The schooner appeared as formidable as anything possibly could of her
size; she had great guns, ten in number, small arms, boarding-pikes,
cutlasses, pistols, and a great quantity of ammunition. She was a
war-horse in every sense of the word, but that of animal life, and that
she seemed partially to have, or one would have thought so, to hear
the sailors talk of her.... She coursed over the waters with every
preparation for fight.

\x93On the 13th of September the _Antarctic_ again reached Massacre
Islands. I could only view the place as a Golgotha; and shuddered as we
neared it; but I could see that most of the old crew who came hither
at the time of the massacre were panting for revenge, although their
captain had endeavoured to impress upon them the folly of gratifying
such a passion if we could gain our purpose by mildness mixed with
firmness.\x94 (I am afraid that here the skipper of the _Antarctic_ was
not exactly open with the little lady. He certainly meant that his crew
should \x93get even\x94 with their shipmates\x92 murderers, but doubtless told
her that he \x93had endeavoured,\x94 etc)

\x93We had no sooner made our appearance in the harbour at Massacre Island,
on the 14th, than we were attacked by about three hundred warriors. We
opened a brisk fire upon them, and they immediately retreated. This was
the first battle I ever saw where men in anger met men in earnest We
were now perfectly safe; our Manila men were as brave as Caesar; they
were anxious to be landed instantly, to fight these Indians at once.
They felt as much superior, no doubt, to these ignorant savages as the
philosopher does to the peasant. This the captain would not permit; he
knew his superiority while on board his vessel, and he also knew that
this superiority must be, in a manner, lost to him as soon as he landed.

\x93The firing had ceased, and the enemy had retired, when a single
canoe appeared coming from the shore with one man in it. We could not
conjecture what this could mean. The man was as naked as a savage and as
highly painted, but he managed his paddle with a different hand from the
savages. When he came alongside, he cried out to us in English, and we
recognised Leonard Shaw, one of our old crew, whom we had supposed among
the dead. The meeting had that joyousness about it that cannot be felt
in ordinary life; he was dead and buried, and now was alive again!
We received him as one might imagine; surprise, joy, wonder, took
possession of us all, and we made him recount his adventures, which were
wonderful enough.

\x93Shaw was wounded when the others were slain; he fled to the woods, and
succeeded at that time in escaping from death. Hunger at length induced
him to leave the woods and attempt to give himself to the savages, but
coming in sight of the horrid spectacle of the bodies of his friends and
companions roasting for a cannibal feast, he rushed forth again into the
woods with the intent rather to starve than to trust to such wretches
for protection. For four days and nights he remained in his hiding
place, when he was forced to go in pursuit of something to keep himself
from starving. After some exertion he obtained three coco-nuts, which
were so young that they did not afford much sustenance, but were
sufficient to keep him alive fifteen days, during which time he suffered
from the continually falling showers, which left him dripping wet. In
the shade of his hiding place he had no chance to dry himself, and on
the fifteenth day he ventured to stretch himself in the sun; but he did
not long remain undisturbed; an Indian saw him, and gave the alarm,
and he was at once surrounded by a host of savages. The poor, suffering
wretch implored them to be merciful, but he implored in vain; one of
them struck him on the back of the head with a war-club, and laid him
senseless on the ground, and for a while left him as dead. When he
recovered, and had gathered his scattered senses, he observed a chief
who was not among those by whom he had been attacked, and made signs
to him that he would be his slave if he would save him. The savage
intimated to him to follow, which he did, and had his wound most cruelly
dressed by the savage, who poured hot water into it, and filled it with
sand.

\x93As soon as the next day, while yet in agony with his wound, he was
called up and set to work in making knives, and other implements from
the iron hoops, and other plunder from the forge when the massacre took
place. This was indeed hard, for the poor fellow was no mechanic, though
a first-rate Jack-tar... however, necessity made him a blacksmith, and
he got along pretty well.

\x93The savages were not yet satisfied, and they made him march five or
six miles to visit a distinguished chief. This was done in a state of
nudity, without anything like sandals or mocassins to protect his feet
from the flint stones and sharp shells, and under the burning rays of
an intolerable sun. Blood marked his footsteps. The king met him
and compelled him to debase himself by the most abject ceremonies of
slavery. He was now overcome, and with a dogged indifference was ready
to die. He could not, he would not walk back; his feet were lacerated,
swollen, and almost in a state of putrefaction. The savages saw this,
and took him back by water, but only to experience new torments. The
young ones imitated their elders, and these graceless little rascals
pulled out his beard and whiskers, and eyebrows and eyelashes. In order
to save himself some part of the pain of this wretched process of their
amusement, he was permitted to perform a part of this work with his
own hands. He was indeed a pitiable object, but one cannot die when one
wishes, and be guiltless. This was not all he suffered; he was almost
starved to death, for they gave him only the offal of the fish they
caught, and this but sparingly; he sustained himself by catching rats,
and these offensive creatures were his principal food for a longtime.
He understood that the natives did not suffer the rats to be killed, and
therefore he had to do it secretly in the night time.

\x93Thus passed the days of the poor prisoner; the wound on his head was
not yet healed, and notwithstanding all his efforts he failed to get the
sand out of his first wound until a short time before his deliverance,
when it was made known to him that he was to be immolated for a feast to
the king of the group! All things had now become matters of indifference
to him, and he heard the horrid story with great composure. All the
preparations for the sacrifice were got up in his presence, near the
very spot where the accursed feast of skulls had been held. All was in
readiness, and the people waited a long time for the king; but he did
not come, and the ceremony was put off.

\x93Shaw has often expressed himself on this subject, and said that he
could not but feel some regret that his woes were not to be finished,
as there was no hope for him, and to linger always in this state of
agitation was worse than death; but mortals are short-sighted, for he
was destined to be saved through the instrumentality of his friends.

\x93His soul was again agitated by hope and fear in the extremes when the
_Antarctic_ made her appearance a second time on the coast. He feared
that her arrival would be the signal for his destruction; but if this
should not happen, might he not be saved? The whole population of the
island he was on, and those of the others of the group, manned their
war canoes for a formidable attack; and the fate of the prisoner was
suspended for a season. The attack was commenced by the warriors in the
canoes, without doubt confident of success; but the well-directed fire
from the _Antarctic_ soon repulsed them, and they sought the shore in
paroxysms of rage, which was changed to fear when they found that the
big guns of the schooner threw their shot directly into the village, and
were rapidly demolishing their dwellings. It was in this state of fear
and humility that Shaw was sent off to the vessel to stop the carnage
and destruction; they were glad to have peace on any terms. They now
gave up their boldness, and as it was the wish of all but the Manila
men to spare the effusion of human blood, it was done as soon as safety
would permit of it.

\x93The story of Shaw\x92s sufferings raised the indignation of every one
of the Americans and English we had on board, and they were violently
desirous to be led on to attack the whole of the Massacre Islands, and
extirpate the race at once. They felt at this moment as if it would be
an easy thing to kill the whole of the inhabitants; but Captain Morrell
was not to be governed by any impulse of passion--he had other duties to
perform; yet he did not reprimand the men for this feeling; thinking it
might be of service to him hereafter.

\x93After taking every precaution to ensure safety, by getting up his
boarding-nettings many feet above the deck, and everything prepared for
defence or attack, the frame of the house, brought for the purpose,
was got up on a small uninhabited island--which had previously been
purchased of the king in exchange for useful articles such as axes,
shaves, and other mechanical tools, precisely such as the Indians wished
for. The captain landed with a large force, and began to fell the trees
to make a castle for defence. Finding two large trees, nearly six feet
through, he prepared the limbs about forty feet from the ground, and
raised a platform extending from one to the other, with an arrow-proof
bulwark around it. Upon this platform were stationed a garrison of
twenty men, with four brass swivels. The platform was covered with a
watertight roof, and the men slept there at night upon their arms, to
keep the natives from approaching to injure the trees or the fort by
fire--the only way they could assail the garrison. It looked indeed like
a castle--formidable in every respect; and the ascent to it was by a
ladder, which was drawn up at night into this war-like habitation. The
next step was to clear the woods from around the castle, in order to
prevent a lurking enemy from coming within arrow-shot of the fort
Next, the house was raised, and made quite a fine appearance, being one
hundred and fifty feet long, forty feet broad, and very high. The castle
protected the house and the workmen in it, and both house and castle
were so near the sea-board that the _Antarctic_ while riding at anchor,
protected both. The castle was well stocked with provisions in case of a
siege.

\x93The next day, after all was in order for business, a large number of
canoes made their appearance near Massacre Island. Shaw said that this
fleet belonged to another island (of the group) and he had never known
them to stop there before. My husband, having some suspicions, did not
suffer the crew to go on shore next morning at the usual time; and about
eight o\x92clock one of the chiefs came off, as usual, to offer us fruits,
but no boat was sent to meet him. He waited some time for us, and then
directed his course to our island, which my husband had named Wallace
Island, in memory of the officer who had bravely fallen in fight on the
day of the massacre. This was surprising as not a single native had set
foot on that island since our works were begun; but we were not kept
long in suspense, for we saw about a hundred war-canoes start from the
back side of Massacre Island, and make towards Wallace Island. We knew
that war was their object, and the _Antarctic_ was prepared for
battle. The chief who had come to sell us fruit, came in front of the
castle--the first man. He gave the war-whoop, and about two hundred
warriors, who had concealed themselves in the woods during the darkness
of the night, rushed forward. The castle was attacked on both sides,
and the Indians discharged their arrows at the building in the air, till
they were stuck, like porcupines\x92 quills, in every part of the roof. The
garrison was firm, and waked in silence until the assailants were within
a short distance, when they opened a tremendous fire with their swivels,
loaded with canister shot; the men were ready with their muskets also,
and the _Antarctic_ opened her fire of large guns, all with a direct
and deadly aim at the leaders of the savage band. The execution was very
great, and in a short time the enemy beat a precipitate retreat, taking
with them their wounded, and as many of their dead as they could. The
ground was strewed with implements of war, which the savages had thrown
away in their flight, or which had belonged to the slain. The enemy did
not expect such a reception, and they were prodigiously frightened; the
sound of the cannon alarmed every woman and child in the group, as it
echoed through the forest, or died upon the wave; they had never heard
such a roar before, for in our first fight there was no necessity for
such energy. The Indians took to the water, leaving only a few in their
canoes to get them off, while the garrison hoisted the American flag,
and were greeted by cheers from those on board the schooner, who were in
high spirits at their victory, which was achieved without the loss of
a man on our part, and only two wounded. The music struck up \x91Yankee
Doodle,\x92 \x91Rule Britannia,\x92 etc., and the crew could hardly restrain
their joy to think that they had beaten their enemy so easily.

\x93The boats were all manned, and most of the crew went on shore to
mark the devastation which had been made. I saw all this without any
sensation of fear, so easy is it for a woman to catch the spirit of
those near her. If I had a few months before this time read of such a
battle I should have trembled at the detail of the incidents; but seeing
all the animation and courage which were displayed, and noticing at the
same time how coolly all was done, every particle of fear left me, and
I stood quite as collected as any heroine of former days. Still I
could not but deplore the sacrifice of the poor, misguided, ignorant
creatures, who wore the human form, and had souls to save. Must the
ignorant always be taught civilisation through blood?--situated as we
were, no other course could be taken.

\x93On the morning of the 19th, to our great surprise, the chief who had
previously come out to bring us fruit, and had done so on the morning of
our great battle, came again in his canoe, and called for Shaw, on
the edge of the reef, with his usual air of kindness and friendship,
offering fruit, and intimating a desire for trade, as though nothing had
happened. The offer seemed fair, but all believed him to be treacherous.
The small boat was sent to meet him, but Shaw, who we feared was now an
object of vengeance, was not sent in her. She was armed for fear of
the worst, and the coxswain had orders to kill the chief if he should
discover any treachery in him. As our boat came alongside the canoe,
the crew saw a bearded arrow attached to a bow, ready for the purpose
of revenge. Just as the savage was about to bend his bow, the coxswain
levelled his piece, and shot the traitor through the body; his wound was
mortal, but he did not expire immediately. At this instant a fleet of
canoes made their appearance to protect their chief. The small boat lost
one of her oars in the fight, and we were obliged to man two large boats
and send them to the place of contest The large boats were armed with
swivels and muskets, and a furious engagement ensued. The natives were
driven from the water, but succeeded in taking off their wounded chief,
who expired as he reached the shore.

\x93After the death of Hennean, the name of the chief we had slain, the
inhabitants of Massacre Island fled to some other place, and left all
things as they were before our attack upon them, and our men roamed over
it at will. The skulls of several of our slaughtered men were found at
Hennean\x92s door, trophies of his bloody prowess. These were now buried
with the honours of war; the colours of the _Antarctic_ were lowered
half-mast, minute guns were fired, and dirges were played by our band,
in honour of those who had fallen untimely on Massacre Island. This was
all that feeling or affection could bestow. Those so inhumanly murdered
had at last the rites of burial performed for them; millions have
perished without such honours...it is the last sad office that can be
paid.

\x93We now commenced collecting and curing _b\xEAche-de-mer_ and should have
succeeded to our wishes, if we had not been continually harassed by the
natives as soon as we began our efforts. We continued to work in this
way until the 28th of October, when we found that the natives were still
hostile, and on that day one of our men was attacked on Massacre Island,
but escaped death through great presence of mind, and shot the man, who
was the brother of the chief Hennean. Our man\x92s name was Thomas Holmes,
a cool, deliberate Englishman. Such an instance of self-possession,
in such great danger as that in which he was placed, would have given
immortality to a greater man. We felt ourselves much harassed and vexed
by the persevering savages, and finding it impossible to make them
understand our motives and intentions, we came to the conclusion to
leave the place forthwith. This was painful, after such struggles and
sacrifices and misfortunes; but there was no other course to pursue.
Accordingly, on the 3rd of November, 1830, we set fire to our house and
castle, and departed by the light of them, taking the _b\xEAche-de-mer_ we
had collected and cured.\x94

So ends Mrs. Morrell\x92s story of the tragedy of \x93Massacre Island\x94. She
has much else to relate of the subsequent cruise of the _Antarctic_ in
the South Pacific and the East Indies, and finally the happy conclusion
of an adventurous voyage, when the vessel returned safely to New York.

If the reader has been sufficiently interested in her story to desire
to know where in the South Pacific her \x93Massacre Island\x94 is situated,
he will find it in any modern map or atlas, almost midway between New
Ireland and Bougainville Island, the largest of the Solomon group, and
in lat. 4\xB0 50\x92 S., long. 154\xB0 20\x92 E. In conclusion, I may mention that
further relics of the visit of the _Antarctic_ came to light about
fifteen years ago, when some of the natives brought three or four round
shot to the local trader then living on Nis\xE2n. They had found them
buried under some coral stone _d\xE9bris_ when searching for robber crabs.



CHAPTER V ~ MUTINIES

Mutinies, even at the present day, are common enough. The facts
concerning many of them never come to light, it is so often to the
advantage of the after-guard of a ship to hush matters up. I know of one
instance in which the crew of a ship loading guano phosphates at Howland
Island imprisoned the captain, three mates and the steward in the cabin
for some days; then hauled them on deck, triced up the whole five and
gave them a hundred lashes each, in revenge for the diabolical cruelties
that had been inflicted upon them day by day for long months. Then they
liberated their tormentors, took to the boats and dispersed themselves
on board other guano ships loading at How-land Island, leaving their
former captain and officers to shift for themselves. This was one of
the mutinies that never came to light, or at least the mutineers escaped
punishment.

I have witnessed three mutinies--in the last of which I took part,
although I was not a member of the ship\x92s crew.

My first experience occurred when I was a boy, and has been alluded to
by the late Lord Pembroke in his \x93Introduction\x94 to the first book I had
published--a collection of tales entitled _By Reef and Palm_. It was
a poor sort of an affair, but filled my boyish heart with a glorious
delight--in fact it was an enjoyable mutiny in some respects, for what
might have been a tragedy was turned into a comedy.

With a brother two years older I was sent to San Francisco by our
parents to begin life in a commercial house, and subsequently (of
course) make our fortunes.

Our passages were taken at Newcastle (New South Wales) on the barque
_Lizzie and Rosa_, commanded by a little red-headed Irishman, to whose
care we were committed. His wife (who sailed with him) was a most
lovable woman, generous to a fault. _He_ was about the meanest specimen
of an Irishman that ever was born, was a savage little bully, boasted of
being a Fenian, and his insignificant appearance on his quarter deck, as
he strutted up and down, irresistibly suggested a monkey on a stick, and
my brother and myself took a quick dislike to him, as also did the other
passengers, of whom there were thirty--cabin and steerage. His wife (who
was the daughter of a distinguished Irish prelate) was actually afraid
of the little man, who snarled and snapped at her as if she were a
disobedient child. (Both of them are long since dead, so I can write
freely of their characteristics.)

The barque had formerly been a French corvette--the _Felix Bernaboo_.
She was old, ill-found and leaky, and from the day we left Newcastle the
pumps were kept going, and a week later the crew came aft and demanded
that the ship should return to port.

The little man succeeded in quieting them for the time by giving them
better food, and we continued on our course, meeting with such a series
of adverse gales that it was forty-one days before we sighted the island
of Rurutu in the South Pacific. By this time the crew and steerage
passengers were in a very angry frame of mind; the former were
overworked and exhausted, and the latter were furious at the miserly
allowance of food doled out to them by the equally miserly captain.

At Rurutu the natives brought off two boat-loads of fresh provisions,
but the captain bought only one small pig for the cabin passengers. The
steerage passengers bought up everything else, and in a few minutes
the crew came aft and asked the captain to buy them some decent food in
place of the decayed pork and weevily biscuit upon which they had been
existing. He refused, and ordered them for\x92ard, and then the mate, a
hot-tempered Yorkshireman named Oliver, lost his temper, and told the
captain that the men were starving. Angry words followed, and the mate
knocked the little man down.

Picking himself up, he went below, and reappeared with a brace of
old-fashioned Colt\x92s revolvers, one of which--after declaring he would
\x93die like an Irishman\x94--he pointed at the mate, and calling upon him to
surrender and be put in irons, he fired towards his head. Fortunately
the bullet missed. The sympathetic crew made a rush aft, seized the
skipper, and after knocking him about rather severely, held him under
the force pump, and nearly drowned him. Only for the respect that the
crew had for his wife, I really believe they would have killed him, for
they were wrought up to a pitch of fury by his tyranny and meanness. The
boatswain carried him below, locked him up in one of the state-rooms,
and there he was kept in confinement till the barque reached Honolulu,
twenty days later, the mate acting as skipper. At Honolulu, the mate and
all the crew were tried for mutiny, but the court acquitted them all,
mainly through the testimony of the passengers.

That was my first experience of a mutiny. My brother and I enjoyed it
immensely, especially the attempted shooting of the good old mate, and
the subsequent spectacle of the evil-tempered, vindictive little skipper
being held under the force pump.

My third experience of a mutiny I take next (as it arose from a similar
cause to the first). I was a passenger on a brig bound from Samoa to the
Gilbert Islands (Equatorial Pacific). The master was a German, brutal
and overbearing to a degree, and the two mates were no better. One was
an American \x93tough,\x94 the other a lazy, foul-mouthed Swede. All three
men were heavy drinkers, and we were hardly out of Apia before the Swede
(second mate) broke a sailor\x92s jaw with an iron belaying pin. The crew
were nearly all natives--steady men, and fairly good seamen. Five of
them were Gilbert Islanders, and three natives of Niu\xE9 (Savage Island),
and it was one of these latter whose jaw was broken. They were an
entirely new crew and had shipped in ignorance of the character of the
captain. I had often heard of him as a brutal fellow, and the brig (the
_Alfreda_ of Hamburg) had long had an evil name. She was a labour-ship
(\x93black-birder\x94) and I had taken passage in her only because I was
anxious to get to the Marshall Islands as quickly as possible.

There were but five Europeans on board--captain, two mates, bos\x92un and
myself. The bos\x92un was, although hard on the crew, not brutal, and he
never struck them.

We had not been out three days when the captain, in a fit of rage,
knocked a Gilbert Islander down for dropping a wet paint-brush on
the deck. Then he kicked him about the head until the poor fellow was
insensible.

From that time out not a day passed but one or more of the crew were
struck or kicked. The second mate\x92s conduct filled me with fury and
loathing, for, in addition to his cruelty, his language was nothing but
a string of curses and blasphemy. Within a week I saw that the Gilbert
Islanders were getting into a dangerous frame of mind.

These natives are noted all over the Pacific for their courage, and
seeing that mischief was brewing, I spoke to the bos\x92un about it. He
agreed with me, but said it was no use speaking to the skipper.

To me the captain and officers were civil enough, that is, in a gruff
sort of way, so I decided to speak to the former. I must mention that I
spoke the Gilbert and Savage Island dialects, and so heard the natives
talk. However, I said nothing of that to the German. I merely said to
him that he was running a great risk in knocking the men about, and
added that their countrymen might try to cut off the brig out of
revenge. He snorted with contempt, and both he and the mates continued
to \x93haze\x94 the now sulky and brooding natives.

One calm Sunday night we were in sight of Funafuti lagoon, and also of a
schooner which I knew to be the _Hazeldine_ of San Francisco. She, like
us, was becalmed.

In the middle watch I went on deck and found the skipper and second mate
drunk. The mate, who was below, was about half-drunk. All three men had
been drinking heavily for some days, and the second mate was hardly able
to keep his feet. The captain was asleep on the skylight, lying on his
back, snoring like a pig, and I saw the butt of his revolver showing in
the inner pocket of his coat.

Presently rain began to fall, and the second mate called one of the
hands and told him to bring him his oil-skin coat. The man brought it,
and then the brutal Swede, accusing him of having been slow, struck him
a fearful blow in the face and knocked him off the poop. Then the brute
followed him and began kicking him with drunken fury, then fell on the
top of him and lay there.

I went for\x92ard and found all the natives on deck, very excited and armed
with knives. Addressing them, I begged them to keep quiet and listen to
me.

\x93The captain and mates are all drunk,\x94 I said, \x93and now is your chance
to leave the ship. Funafuti is only a league away. Get your clothes
together as quickly as possible, then lower away the port quarter-boat.
I, too, am leaving this ship, and I want you to put me on board the
_Hazeldine_. Then you can go on shore. Now, put up your knives and don\x92t
hurt those three men, beasts as they are.\x94

As I was speaking, Max the bos\x92un came for\x92ard and listened. (I thought
he was asleep.) He did not interfere, merely giving me an expressive
look. Then he said to me:--

\x93Ask them to lock me up in the deck-house\x94.

Very quietly this was done, and then, whilst I got together my personal
belongings in the cabin, the boat was lowered. The Yankee mate was sound
asleep in his bunk, but one of the Nui\xE9 men took the key of his door and
locked it from the outside. Presently I heard a sound of breaking wood,
and going on deck, found that the Gilbert Islanders had stove-in the
starboard quarter-boat and the long-boat (the latter was on deck).
Then I saw that the second mate was lashed (bound hand and foot) to
the pump-rail, and the captain was lashed to one of the fife-rail
stanchions. His face was streaming with blood, and I thought he was
dead, but found that he had only been struck with a belaying pin, which
had broken his nose.

\x93He drew a lot of blood from us,\x94 said one of the natives to me, \x93and so
I have drawn some from him.\x94

I hurried to the deck-house and told the bos\x92un what had occurred. He
was a level-headed young man, and taking up a carpenter\x92s broad axe,
smashed the door of the deck-house. Then he looked at me and smiled.

\x93You see, I\x92m gaining my liberty--captain and officers tied up, and no
one to look after the ship.\x94

I understood perfectly, and shaking hands with him and wishing him
a better ship, I went over the side into the boat, and left the brig
floating quietly on the placid surface of the ocean.

The eight native sailors made no noise, although they were all wildly
excited and jubilant, but as we shoved off, they called out \x93Good-bye,
bos\x92un\x94.

An hour afterwards I was on board the _Hazeldine_ and telling my story
to her skipper, who was an old friend. Then I bade good-bye to the
natives, who started off for Funafuti with many expressions of goodwill
to their fellow-mutineer.

At daylight a breeze came away from the eastward, and at breakfast time
the _Hazeldine_ was out of sight of the _Alfreda_.

I learnt a few months later that the skipper had succeeded in bringing
her into Funafuti Lagoon, where he managed to obtain another crew.



CHAPTER VI ~ \x93M\xC2NI\x94

M\xE2ni was a half-caste--father a Martinique nigger, mother a
Samoan--twenty-two years of age, and lived at Moat\xE2, a little village
two miles from Apia in Samoa.

M\xE2ni\x92s husband was a Frenchman named Fran\xE7ois Renault, who, when he was
sober, worked as a boat-builder and carpenter, for the German \x93factory\x94
 at Mataf\xE9le. And when he was away form home I would hear M\xE2ni laughing,
and see her playing with her two dark-skinned little girls, and talking
to them in a curious mixture of Samoan-French. They were merry mites
with big rolling eyes, and unmistakably \x93kinky\x94 hair--like their mother.

It was a fortnight after the great gale of 15th March, 1889, when the
six German and American warships were wrecked, that M\xE2ni came to my
house with a basket of fresh-water fish she had netted far up in a deep
mountain pool. She looked very happy. \x93Frank,\x94 she said, had not beaten
her for two whole weeks, and had promised not to beat her any more. And
he was working very steadily now.

\x93That is good to hear, M\xE2ni.\x94

She smiled as she nodded her frizzy head, tossed her _tiputa_ (open
blouse) over one shoulder, and sat down on the verandah steps to clean
the fish.

\x93Yes, he will beat me no more--at least not whilst the shipwrecked
sailors remain in Samoa. When they go I shall run away with the
children--to some town in Savai\x92i where he cannot find me.\x94

\x93It happened in this way,\x94 she went on confidentially: \x93a week ago two
American sailors came to the house and asked for water, for they
were thirsty and the sun was hot I told them that the Moat\xE2 water was
brackish, and I husked and gave them two young coco-nuts each. And then
Frank, who had been drinking, ran out of the house and cursed and struck
me. Then one of the sailors felled him to the earth, and the other
dragged him up by his collar, and both kicked him so much that he wept.

\x93\x91Doth he often beat thee?\x92 said one of the sailors to me. And I said
\x91Yes\x92.

\x93Then they beat him again, saying it was for my sake. And then one of
them shook him and said: \x91O thou dog, to so misuse thine own wife! Now
listen. In three days\x92 time we two of the _Trenton_ will have a day\x92s
liberty, and we shall come here and see if thou hast again beaten thy
wife. And if thou hast but so much as _mata pio\x92d_ her we shall each
kick thee one hundred times.\x92\x94

(_Mata pio_, I must explain, is Samoan for looking \x93cross-eyed\x94 or
unpleasantly at a person.)

\x93And Frank was very much afraid, and promised he would no longer harm
me, and held out his hand to them weepingly, but they would not take
it, and swore at him. And then they each gave my babies a quarter of
a dollar, and I, because my heart was glad, gave them each a ring of
tortoiseshell.\x94

\x93Did they come back, M\xE2ni?\x94

M\xE2ni, at heart, was a flirt. She raised her big black eyes with their
long curling lashes to me, and then closed them for a moment demurely.

\x93Yes,\x94 she replied, \x93they came back. And when I told them that my
husband was now kind to me, and was at work, they laughed, and left for
him a long piece of strong tobacco tied round with tarred rope. And they
said, \x91Tell him we will come again by-and-by, and see how he behaveth to
thee\x92.\x94

\x93M\xE2ni,\x94 said in English, as she finished the last of the fish, \x93why
do you speak Samoan to me when you know English so well? Where did you
learn it? Your husband always speaks French to you.\x94

M\xE2ni told me her story. In her short life of two-and-twenty years she
had had some strange experiences.

\x93My father was Jean Galoup. He was a negro of St. Pierre, in Martinique,
and came to Samoa in a French barque, which was wrecked on Tutuila.
He was one of the sailors. When the captain and the other sailors made
ready to go away in the boats he refused to go, and being a strong,
powerful man they dared not force him. So he remained on Tutuila and
married my mother, and became a Samoan, and made much money by selling
food to the whaleships. Then, when I was twelve years old, my mother
died, and my father took me to his own country--to Martinique. It took
us two years to get there, for we went through many countries--to Sydney
first, then to China, and to India, and then to Marseilles in France.
But always in English ships. That is how I have learned to speak
English.

\x93We lived for three years in Martinique, and then one day, as my father
was clearing some land at the foot of Mont Pel\xE9e, he was bitten by
_fer-de-lance_ and died, and I was left alone.

\x93There was a young carpenter at St. Pierre, named Fran\xE7ois Renault, who
had one day met me in the market-place, and after that often came to see
my father and me. He said he loved me, and so when my father was dead,
we went to the priest and we were married.

\x93My husband had heard much of Samoa from my father, and said to me: \x91Let
us go there and live\x92.

\x93So we came here, and then Frank fell into evil ways, for he was cross
with me because he saw that the pure-blooded Samoan girls were prettier
than me, and had long straight hair and lighter skins. And because he
could not put me away he began to treat me cruelly. And I love him no
more. But yet will I stay by him if he doeth right.\x94

The fates were kind to M\xE2ni a few months later. Her husband went to sea
and never returned, and M\xE2ni, after waiting a year, was duly married
by the consul to a respectable old trader on Savai\x92i, who wanted a wife
with a \x93character\x94--the which is not always obtainable with a bride in
the South Seas.



CHAPTER VII ~ AT NIGHT

The day\x92s work was finished. Outside a cluster of rudely built
palm-thatched huts, just above the curving white beach, and under the
lengthening shadows of the silent cocos, two white men (my partner and
myself) and a party of brown-skinned Polynesians were seated together
smoking, and waiting for their evening meal. Now and then one would
speak, and another would answer in low, lazy tones. From an open shed
under a great jack-fruit tree a little distance away there came the
murmur of women\x92s voices and, now and then, a laugh. They were the wives
of the brown men, and were cooking supper for their husbands and the two
white men. Half a cable length from the beach a schooner lay at anchor
upon the still lagoon, whose waters gleamed red under the rays of the
sinking sun. Covered with awnings fore and after she showed no sign of
life, and rested-as motionless as were the pendent branches of the lofty
cocos on the shore.

Presently a figure appeared on deck and went for\x92ard, and then a bright
light shone from the fore-stay.

My partner turned and called to the women, speaking in Hawaiian, and
bade two of them take their own and the ship-keeper\x92s supper on board,
and stay for the night Then he spoke to the men in English.

\x93Who keeps watch to-night with the other man?\x94

\x93Me, sir,\x94 and a native rose to his feet.

\x93Then off you go with your wife and Terese, and don\x92t set the ship on
fire when you and your wife, and Harry and his begin squabbling as usual
over your game of _tahia_."{*}

     * \x93Tahia\x94 is a gambling game played with small round stones;
     it resembles our \x93knuckle-bones\x94.

The man laughed; the women, pretending to be shocked, each placed one
hand over her eyes, and with suppressed giggles went down to the beach
with the man, carrying a basket of steaming food. Launching a light
canoe they pushed off, and as the man paddled the women sang in the soft
Hawaiian tongue.

\x93Happy beggars,\x94 said my comrade to me, as he stood up and stretched his
lengthy, stalwart figure, \x93work all day, and sit up gambling and singing
hymns--when they are not intriguing with each other\x92s husbands and
wives.\x94

The place was Providence Atoll in the North Pacific, a group of
seventeen uninhabited islands lying midway between the Marshall and
Caroline Archipelagoes--that is to say, that they had been uninhabited
for some years, until we came there with our gang of natives to catch
sharks and make coco-nut oil. There was no one to deny us, for the man
who claimed the islands, Captain \x93Bully\x94 Hayes, had given us the right
of possession for two years, we to pay him a certain percentage of our
profits on the oil we made, and the sharks\x92 fins and tails we cured.
The story of Providence Atoll (the \x93Arrecifos\x94 of the early Spanish
navigators, and the \x93Ujilang\x94 of the native of Micronesia) cannot here
be told--suffice it to say that less than fifty years before over
a thousand people dwelt on the seventeen islands in some twelve or
fourteen villages. Then came some dread disease which swept them away,
and when Hayes sailed into the great lagoon in 1860--his was the first
ship that ever entered it--he found less than a score of survivors.
These he treated kindly; but for some reason soon removed them to Ponap\xE9
in the Carolines, and then years passed without the island being visited
by any one except Hayes, who used it as a rendezvous, and brought other
natives there to make oil for him. Then, in a year or so, these, too,
he took away, for he was a restless man, and had many irons in the fire.
Yet there was a fortune there, as its present German owners know, for
the great chain of islands is covered with coco-nut trees which yield
many thousands of pounds\x92 worth of copra annually.

My partner and I had been working the islands for some months, and had
done fairly well. Our native crew devoted themselves alternately to
shark catching and oil making. The lagoon swarmed with sharks, the fins
and tails of which when dried were worth from sixty to eighty pounds
sterling per ton. (Nowadays the entire skins of sharks are bought by
some of the traders on several of the Pacific Islands on behalf of a
firm in Germany, who have a secret method of tanning and softening
them, and rendering them fit for many purposes for which leather is
used--travelling bags, coverings for trunks, etc.)

The women helped to make the oil, caught fish, robber-crabs and turtle
for the whole party, and we were a happy family indeed. We usually lived
on shore, some distance from the spot where we dried the shark-fins, for
the odour was appalling, especially after rain, and during a calm night.
We dried them by hanging them on long lines of coir cinnet between the
coco-palms of a little island half a mile from our camp.

But we did not always work. There were many wild pigs--the progeny of
domestic stock left by Captain Hayes--on the larger islands, and we
would have great \x93drives\x94 every few weeks, the skipper and I with our
rifles, and our crew of fifteen, with their wives and children, armed
with spears. \x91Twas great fun, and we revelled in it like children.
Sometimes we would bring the ship\x92s dog with us. He was a mongrel
Newfoundland, and very game, but was nearly shot several times by
getting in the way, for although all the islands are very low, the
undergrowth in parts is very dense. If we failed to secure a pig we were
certain of getting some dozens of large robber-crabs, the most delicious
of all crustaceans when either baked or boiled. Then, too, we had
the luxury of a vegetable garden, in which we grew melons, pumpkins,
cucumbers, onions, tomatoes, etc. The seed (which was Californian) had
been given to me by an American skipper, and great was our delight to
have fresh European vegetables, for the islands produced nothing in
that way, except coconuts and some jack-fruit. The lagoon teemed with
an immense variety of fish, none of which were poisonous, and both green
and hawk-bill turtle were captured almost daily.

How those natives of ours could eat! One morning some of the children
brought five hundred turtle eggs into camp; they were all eaten at three
meals.

That calm, quiet night the heat was somewhat oppressive, but about ten
o\x92clock a faint air from the eastward began to gently rustle the tops of
the loftiest palms on the inner beaches, though we felt it not, owing to
the dense undergrowth at the back of the camp. Then, too, the mosquitoes
were troublesome, and a nanny-goat, who had lost her kid (in the oven)
kept up such an incessant blaring that we could stand it no longer,
and decided to walk across the island--less than a mile--to the weather
side, where we should not only get the breeze, but be free of the curse
of mosquitoes.

\x93Over to the windward beach,\x94 we called out to our natives.

In an instant, men, women and children were on their feet. Torches of
dried coco-nut leaves were deftly woven by the women, sleeping mats
rolled up and given to the children to carry, baskets of cold baked fish
and vegetables hurriedly taken down from where they hung under the eaves
of the thatched huts, and away we trooped eastward along the
narrow path, the red glare of the torches shining upon the smooth,
copper-bronzed and half-nude figures of the native men and women.
Singing as we went, half an hour\x92s walk brought us near to the sea. And
with the hum of the surf came the cool breeze, as we reached the open,
and saw before us the gently heaving ocean, sleeping under the light of
the myriad stars.

We loved those quiet nights on the weather side of Arrecifos. Our
natives had built some thatched-roofed, open-sided huts as a protection
in case of rain, and under the shelter of one of these the skipper and
I would, when it rained during the night, lie on our mats and smoke
and yarn and watch the women and children with lighted torches catching
crayfish on the reef, heedless of the rain which fell upon them. Then,
when they had caught all they wanted, they would troop on shore again,
come into the huts, change their soaking waist girdles of leaves for
waist-cloths of gaily-coloured print or navy-blue calico, and set to
work to cook the crayfish, always bringing us the best. Then came a
general gossip and story-telling or singing in our hut for an hour
or so, and then some one would yawn and the rest would laugh, bid us
good-night, go off to their mats, and the skipper and I would be asleep
ere we knew it.



CHAPTER VIII ~ THE CRANKS OF THE _JULIA_ BRIG

We were bound from Tahiti to the Gilbert Islands, seeking a cargo of
native labourers for Stewart\x92s great plantation at Tahiti, and had
worked our way from island to island up northward through the group
with fair success (having obtained ninety odd stalwart, brown-skinned
savages), when between Apaian Island and Butaritari Island we spoke a
lumbering, fat-sided old brig--the _Isabella_ of Sydney.

The _Isabella_ was owned by a firm of Chinese merchants in Sydney;
and as her skipper (Evers) and her supercargo (Dick Warren) were old
acquaintances of mine and also of the captain of my ship, we both
lowered boats and exchanged visits.

Warren and I had not met for over two years, since he and I had been
shipmates in a labour vessel sailing out of Samoa--he as mate and I as
\x93recruiter\x94--so we had much to talk about.

\x93Oh, by-the-way,\x94 he remarked as we were saying good-bye, \x93of course you
have heard of that shipload of unwashed saints who have been cruising
around the South Seas in search of a Promised Land?\x94

\x93Yes, I believe that they have gone off to Tonga or Fiji, trying to
light upon \x91the Home Beautiful,\x92 and are very hard up. The people in
Fiji will have nothing to do with that crowd--if they have gone there.\x94

\x93They have not. They turned back for Honolulu, and are now at Butaritari
and in an awful mess. Some of the saints came on board and wanted me to
give them a passage to Sydney. You must go and have a look at them and
their rotten old brig, the _Julia_. Oh, they are a lovely lot--full of
piety and as dirty as Indian fakirs. Ah Sam, our agent at Butaritari,
will tell you all about them. He has had such a sickener of the holy
men that it will do you good to hear him talk. What the poor devils are
going to do I don\x92t know. I gave them a little provisions--all I could
spare, but their appearance so disgusted me that I was not too civil
to them. They cannot get away from Butaritari as the old brig is not
seaworthy, and there is nothing in the way of food to be had in the
island except coco-nuts and fish--manna is out of season in the South
Seas just now. Good-bye, old man, and good luck.\x94

On the following day we sighted Butaritari Island--one of the largest
atolls in the North Pacific, and inhabited by a distinctly unamiable
and cantankerous race of Malayo-Polynesians whose principal amusement
in their lighter hours is to get drunk on sour toddy and lacerate each
other\x92s bodies with sharks\x92 teeth swords. In addition to Ah Sam, the
agent for the Chinese trading firm, there were two European traders who
had married native women and eked out a lonely existence by buying copra
(dried coco-nut) and sharks\x92 fins when they were sober enough to attend
to business--which was infrequent. However, Butaritari was a good
recruiting ground for ships engaged in the labour traffic, owing to the
continuous internecine wars, for the vanquished parties, after their
coco-nut trees had been cut down and their canoes destroyed had the
choice of remaining and having their throats cut or going away in a
labour ship to Tahiti, Samoa or the Sandwich Islands.

Entering the passage through the reef, we sailed slowly across the
splendid lagoon, whose waters were as calm as those of a lake, and
dropped anchor abreast of the principal village and quite near the ship
of the saints. She was a woe-begone, battered-looking old brig of two
hundred tons or so. She showed no colours in response to ours, and we
could see no one on deck. Presently, however, we saw a man emerge from
below, then a woman, and presently a second man, and in a few minutes
she showed the Ecuadorian flag. Then all three sat on chairs under the
ragged awning and stared listlessly at our ship.

Ah Sam came off from the shore and boarded us. He was a long, melancholy
Chinaman, had thirty-five hairs of a beard, and, poor fellow, was dying
of consumption. He told us the local news, and then I asked him
about the cargo of saints, many more of whom were now visible on the
after-deck of their disreputable old crate.

Ah Sam\x92s thin lips parted in a ghastly smile, as he set down his whisky
and soda, and lit a cigar. We were seated under the awning, which had
just been spread, and so had a good view of the _Julia_.

The brig, he said, had managed to crawl into the lagoon three months
previously, and in working up to an anchorage struck on one of the coral
mushrooms with which the atoll is studded. Ah Sam and the two
white traders went off with their boats\x92 crews of natives to render
assistance, and after some hours\x92 hard work succeeded in getting her
off and towing her up to the spot where she was then anchored. Then the
saints gathered on the after-deck and held a thanksgiving meeting, at
the conclusion of which, the thirsty and impatient traders asked the
captain to give them and their boats\x92 crews a few bottles of liquor in
return for their services in pulling his brig off the rocks, and when he
reproachfully told them that the _Julia_ was a temperance ship and that
drink was a curse and that God would reward them for their kindness,
they used most awful language and went off, cursing the captain and the
saints for a lot of mean blackguards and consigning them to everlasting
torments.

On the following day all the Hawaiian crew bolted on shore and took up
their quarters with the natives. The captain came on shore and tried to
get other natives in their place, but failed--for he had no money to pay
wages, but offered instead the privilege of becoming members of what Ah
Sam called some \x93dam fool society\x94.

There were, said Ah Sam, in addition to the captain and his wife,
originally twenty-five passengers, but half of them had left the ship at
various ports.

\x93And now,\x94 he concluded, pointing a long yellow forefinger at the
rest of the saints, \x93the rest of them will be coming to see you
presently--the tam teives--to see wha\x92 they can cadge from you.\x94

\x93You don\x92t like them, Ah Sam?\x94 observed our skipper, with a twinkle in
his eye.

Ah Sam\x92s reply could not be put upon paper. For a Chinaman he could
swear in English most fluently. Then he bade us good-bye for the
present, said he would do all he could to help me get some \x93recruits,\x94
 and invited us to dinner with him in the evening. He was a good-natured,
hospitable fellow, and we accepted the invitation with pleasure.

A few minutes after he had gone on shore the brigantine\x92s boat came
alongside, and her captain and three of his passengers stepped on board.
He introduced himself as Captain Lynch Richards, and his friends as
Brothers So-and-So of the \x93Islands Brothers\x92 Association of Christians
\x93. They were a dull, melancholy looking lot, Richards alone showing some
mental and physical activity. Declining spirituous refreshments, they
all had tea and something to eat. Then they asked me if I would let them
have some provisions, and accept trade goods in payment.

As they had no money--except about one hundred dollars between them--I
let them have what provisions we could spare, and then accepted their
invitation to visit the _Julia_.

I went with them in their own boat--two of the saints pulling--and as
they flopped the blades of their oars into the water and I studied their
appearance, I could not but agree with Dick Warren\x92s description--\x93as
dirty as Indian fakirs,\x94 for not only were their garments dirty, but
their faces looked as if they had not come into contact with soap and
water for a twelvemonth. Richards, the skipper, was a comparatively
young man, and seemed to have given some little attention to his attire,
for he was wearing a decent suit of navy blue with a clean collar and
tie.

Getting alongside we clambered on deck--there was no side ladder--and I
was taken into the cabin where Richards introduced me to his wife. She
was a pretty, fragile-looking young woman of about five and twenty years
of age, and looked so worn out and unhappy that my heart was filled with
pity. During the brief conversation we held I asked her if she and her
husband would come on board our vessel in the afternoon and have tea,
and mentioned that we had piles and piles of books and magazines on the
ship to which she could help herself.

Her eyes filled with tears. \x93I guess I should like to,\x94 she said as she
looked at her husband.

Then I was introduced to the rest of the company in turn, as they
sat all round the cabin, half a dozen of them on the transom lockers
reminding me somehow of dejected and meditative storks. Glad of an
excuse to get out of the stuffy and ill-ventilated cabin and the
uninspiring society of the unwashed Brethren, I eagerly assented to the
captain\x92s suggestion to have a look round the ship before we \x93talked
business,\x94 _i.e_., concerning the trade goods I was to select in payment
for the provisions with which I had supplied him. One of the Brethren,
an elderly, goat-faced person, came with us, and we returned on deck.

Never before had I seen anything like the _Julia_. She was an old,
soft-pine-built ex-Puget Sound lumberman, literally tumbling to decay,
aloft and below. Her splintering decks, to preserve them somewhat from
the torrid sun, were covered over with old native mats, and her spars,
from want of attention, were splitting open in great gaping cracks, and
were as black as those of a collier. How such a craft made the voyage
from San Francisco to Honolulu, and from there far to the south of the
Line and then back north to the Gilbert Group, was a marvel.

I was taken down the hold and showed what the \x93cranks\x94 called their
trade goods and asked to select what I thought was a fair thing in
exchange for the provisions I had given them. Heavens! Such a collection
of utter, utter rubbish! second-hand musical boxes in piles, gaudy
lithographs, iron bedsteads, \x93brown paper\x94 boots and shoes eaten half
away by cockroaches. Sets of cheap and nasty toilet ware, two huge cases
of common and much damaged wax dolls, barrels of rotted dried apples,
and decayed pork, an ice-making plant, bales and bales of second-hand
clothing--men\x92s, women\x92s and children\x92s--cheap and poisonous sweets in
jars, thousands of twopenny looking-glasses, penny whistles, accordions
that wouldn\x92t accord, as the cockroaches had eaten them up except the
wood and metal work, school slates and pencils, and a box of Bibles and
Moody and Sankey hymn-books. And the smell was something awful! I asked
the captain what was the cause of it--it overpowered even the horrible
odour of the decayed pork and rotted apples. He replied placidly that he
thought it came from a hundred kegs of salted salmon bellies which were
stowed below everything else, and that he \x93guessed some of them hed
busted\x94.

\x93It is enough to breed a pestilence,\x94 I said; \x93why do you not all
turn-to, get the stuff up and heave it overboard? You must excuse me,
captain, but for Heaven\x92s sake let us get on deck.\x94

On returning to the poop we found that the skipper of our vessel had
come on board, and was conversing with Mrs. Richards. I took him aside
and told him of what I had seen, and suggested that we should make them
a present of the provisions. He quite agreed with me, so turning to
Captain Richards and the goat-faced old man and several other of the
Brethren who had joined them, I said that the captain and I hoped that
they would accept the provisions from us, as we felt sure that our
owners would not mind. And I also added that we would send them a few
bags of flour and some other things during the course of the day. And
then the captain, knowing that Captain Richards and his wife were coming
to have tea with us, took pity on the Brethren and said, he hoped they
would all come to breakfast in the morning.

Poor beggars. Grateful! Of course they were, and although they were
sheer lunatics--religious lunatics such as the United States produces by
tens of thousands every year--we felt sincerely sorry for them when they
told us their miserable story. The spokesman was an old fellow of sixty
with long flowing hair--the brother-in-law of the man with the goat\x92s
face--and an enthusiast But mad--mad as a hatter.

\x93The Islands Brothers\x92 Association of Christians\x94 had its genesis in
Philadelphia. It was formed \x93by a few pious men to found a settlement in
the South Seas, till the soil, build a temple, instruct the savages,
and live in peace and happiness\x94. Twenty-eight persons joined and seven
thousand dollars were raised in one way and another--mostly from other
lunatics. Many \x93sympathisers\x94 gave goods, food, etc., to help the cause
(hence the awful rubbish in the hold), and at \x91Frisco they spent one
thousand five hundred dollars in buying \x93trade goods to barter with
the simple natives\x94. At \x91Frisco the _Julia_, then lying condemned, was
bought for a thousand dollars--she was not worth three hundred dollars,
and was put under the Ecuadorian flag. \x93God sent them friends in
Captain Richards and his wife,\x94 ambled on the old man. Richards became a
\x93Brother\x94 and joined them to sail the ship and find an island \x93rich
and fertile in God\x92s gifts to man, and with a pleasant people dwelling
thereon\x94.

With a scratch crew of \x91Frisco dead beats the brig reached Honolulu.
The crew at once cleared out, and several of the \x93Brothers,\x94 with their
wives, returned to America--they had had enough of it. After some weeks\x92
delay Richards managed to get four Hawaiian sailors to ship, and the
vessel sailed again for the Isle Beautiful. He didn\x92t know exactly where
to look for it, but he and the \x93Brothers\x94 had been told that there were
any amount of them lying around in the South Seas, and they would have
some trouble in making a choice out of so many.

The story of their insane wanderings after the _Julia_ went south of the
equator would have been diverting had it not been so distressing. The
mate, who we gathered was both a good seaman and a competent navigator,
was drowned through the capsizing of a boat on the reef of some island
between the Gilbert Group and Rarotonga, and with his death what little
discipline, and cohesiveness had formerly existed gradually vanished.
Richards apparently knew how to handle his ship, but as a navigator he
was nowhere. Incredible as it may seem, his general chart of the North
and South Pacific was thirty years old, and was so torn, stained and
greasy as to be all but undecipherable. As the weary weeks went by
and they went from island to island, only to be turned away by the
inhabitants, they at last began to realise the folly of the venture, and
most of them wanted to return to San Francisco. But Richards clung to
the belief that they only wanted patience to find a suitable island
where the natives would be glad to receive them, and where they could
settle down in peace. Failing that, he had the idea that there were
numbers of fertile and uninhabited islands, one of which would suit the
Brethren almost as well. But as time went on he too grew despondent, and
turned the brig\x92s head northward for Honolulu; and one day he blundered
across Butaritari Island and entered the lagoon in the hope of at least
getting, some provisions. And again the crew bolted and left the Brethren
to shift for themselves. Week after week, month after month went by,
the provisions were all gone except weevily biscuit and rotten pork, and
they passed their time in wandering about the beaches of the lagoon
and waiting for assistance. And yet there wore two or three of them
who still believed in the vision of the Isle Beautiful and were still
hopeful that they might get there. \x93All we want is another crew,\x94 these
said to us.

Our skipper shook his head, and then talked to them plainly, calling
upon me to corroborate him.

\x93You will never get a crew. No sailor-man would ever come to sea in
a crate like this. And you\x92ll find no islands anywhere in the Pacific
where you can settle down, unless you can pay for it. The natives will
chivvy you off if you try to land. I know them--you don\x92t. The people in
America who encouraged you in this business were howling lunatics. Your
ship is falling to pieces, and I warn you that if you once leave this
lagoon in her, you will never see land again.\x94

They were silent, and then the old man began to weep, and said they
would there and then pray for guidance.

\x93All right,\x94 said the skipper, \x93go ahead, and I\x92ll get my mate and the
carpenter to come and tell you their opinion of the state of this brig.\x94

The mate and carpenter made an examination, told Captain Richards in
front of his passengers that the ship was utterly unseaworthy, and that
he would be a criminal if he tried to put to sea again. That settled the
business, especially after they had asked me to value their trade goods,
and I told them frankly that they were literally not worth valuing, and
to throw them overboard.

Ten days later the Brotherhood broke up--an American trading schooner
came into the lagoon and her captain offered to take them to Jakuit in
the Marshall Islands, where they were certain of getting a passage to
Honolulu in some whaleship. They all accepted with the exception of
Richards and his wife who refused to leave the _Julia_. The poor fellow
had his pride and would not desert his ship. However, as his wife was
ailing, he had a small house built on shore and managed to make a few
hundred dollars by boat-building. But every day he would go off and have
a look round the old brig to see if everything on board was all right
Then one night there came a series of heavy squalls which raised a
lumpy sea in the lagoon, and when morning broke only her top-masts were
visible--she had gone down at her anchors.

Richards and his fellow-cranks were the forerunners of other bands of
ignorant enthusiasts who in later years endeavoured to foist themselves
upon the natives of the Pacific Islands and met with similar and
well-merited disaster. Like the ill-fated \x93La Nouvelle France\x94 colony of
the notorious Marquis de Ray, all these land-stealing ventures set
about their exploits under the cloak of religion. One, under a pretended
concession from the Mexican Government, founded a \x93Christian Redemption
Colony\x94 of scallywags, loafers and loose women at Magdalena Bay in
Lower California, and succeeded in getting many thousands of pounds from
foolish people. Then came a party of Mormon Evangelists who actually
bought and paid for land in Samoa and conducted themselves decently
and are probably living there now. After them came the wretched _Percy
Edward_ band of pilgrims to found a \x93happy home\x94 in the South Seas. They
called themselves the \x93United Brotherhood of the South Sea Islands\x94. In
another volume, in an article describing my personal experiences of
the disastrous \x93Nouvelle France\x94 expedition to New Ireland,{*} I have
alluded to the _Percy Edward_ affair in these words, which I may be
permitted to quote: \x93The _Percy Edward_ was a wretched old tub of a
brigantine (formerly a Tahiti-San Francisco mail packet). She was
bought in the latter port by a number of people who intended to found a
Socialistic Utopia, where they were to pluck the wild goat by the beard,
pay no rent to the native owners of the soil, and, letting their hair
grow down their backs, lead an idyllic life and loaf around generally.
Such a mad scheme could have been conceived nowhere else but in San
Francisco or Paris.... The result of the Marquis de Ray\x92s expedition
ought to have made the American enthusiasts reflect a little before they
started. But having the idea that they could sail on through summer seas
till they came to some land fair to look upon, and then annex it right
away in the sacred name of Socialism (and thus violate one of the
principles of true Socialism), they sailed--only to be quickly
disillusionised. For there were no islands anywhere in the North and
South Pacific to be had for the taking thereof; neither were there any
tracts of land to be had from the natives, except for hard cash or its
equivalent. The untutored Kanakas also, with whom they came in contact,
refused to become brother Socialists and go shares with the long-haired
wanderers in their land or anything else. So from island unto island the
_Percy Edward_ cruised, looking more disreputable every day, until
as the months went by she began to resemble in her tattered gear
and dejected appearance her fatuous passengers. At last, after being
considerably chivvied about by the white and native inhabitants of the
various islands touched at, the forlorn expedition reach Fiji. Here
fifty of the idealists elected to remain and work for their living
under a Government... But the remaining fifty-eight stuck to the _Percy
Edward_, and her decayed salt junk and putrid water, and their beautiful
ideals; till at last the ship was caught in a hurricane, badly battered
about, lost her foremast, and only escaped foundering by reaching New
Caledonia and settling her keel on the bottom of Noum\xE9a harbour. Then
the visionaries began to collect their senses, and denounced the _Percy
Edward_ and the principles of the \x91United Brotherhood\x92 as hollow
frauds, and elected to abandon her and go on shore and get a good square
meal. What became of them at Noum\xE9a I did not hear, but do know that in
their wanderings they received much charitable assistance from British
shipmasters and missionaries--in some cases their passages were paid
to the United States--the natural and proper country for the ignorant
religious \x91crank\x92.\x94

     * Ridan the Devil: T. Fisher Unwin, London.



CHAPTER IX ~ \x93DANDY,\x94 THE SHIP\x92S DINGO

We anchored under Cape Bedford (North Queensland) one day, and the
skipper and I went on shore to bathe in one of the native-made rocky
water-holes near the Cape. We found a native police patrol camped there,
and the officer asked us if we would like to have a dingo pup for a pet.
His troopers had caught two of them the previous day. We said we should
like to possess a dingo.

\x93Bring him here, Dandy,\x94 said the officer to one of his black troopers,
and Dandy, with a grin on his sooty face, brought to us a lanky-legged
pup about three months old. Its colour was a dirty yellowish red, but
it gave promise of turning out a dog--of a kind. The captain put out
his hand to stroke it, and as quick as lightning it closed its fang-like
teeth upon his thumb. With a bull-like bellow of rage, the skipper was
about to hurl the savage little beast over the cliffs into the sea, when
I stayed his hand.

\x93He\x92ll make a bully ship-dog,\x94 I urged, \x93just the right kind of pup
to chivvy the niggers over the side when we get to the Louisiades and
Solomons. Please don\x92t choke the little beggar, Ross. \x91Twas only fear,
not rage, that made him go for you.\x94

We made a temporary muzzle from a bit of fishing line; bade the officer
good-bye, and went off to the ship.

We were nearly a month beating up to the Solomons, and in that time
we gained some knowledge of Dandy\x92s character. (We named him after
the black trooper.) He was fawningly, sneakingly, offensively
affectionate--when he was hungry, which was nearly always; as ferocious
and as spiteful as a tiger cat when his stomach was full; then, with a
snarling yelp, he would put his tail beneath his legs and trot for\x92ard,
turning his head and showing his teeth. Crawling under the barrel of the
windlass he would lie there and go to sleep, only opening his eyes now
and then to roll them about vindictively when any one passed by. Then
when he was hungry again, he would crawl out and slouch aft with a
\x93please-do-be-kind-to-a-poor-dog\x94 expression on his treacherous face.
Twice when we were sailing close to the land he jumped overboard, and
made for the shore, though he couldn\x92t swim very well and only went
round and round in circles. On each occasion a native sailor jumped over
after him and brought him back, and each time he bit his rescuer.

\x93Never mind him, sir,\x94 said the mate to Ross one day, when the angry
skipper fired three shots at Dandy for killing the ship\x92s cat--missed
him and nearly killed the steward, who had put his head out of the
galley door to see the fun--\x93there\x92s money in that dog. I wouldn\x92t mind
bettin\x92 half-a-sov that Charley Nyberg, the trader on Santa Anna, will
give five pounds for him. He\x92ll go for every nigger he\x92s sooled on to.
You mark my words.\x94

In the fore-hold we had a hundred tons of coal destined for one of H.M.
cruisers then surveying in the Solomon Group. We put Dandy down there to
catch rats, and gave him nothing but water. Here he showed his blood. We
could hear the scraping about of coal, and the screams of the captured
rodents, as Dandy tore round the hold after them. In three days
there were no more rats left, and Dandy began to utter his weird,
blood-curdling howls--he wanted to come on deck. We lashed him down
under the force pump, and gave him a thorough wash-down. He shook
himself, showed his teeth at us and tore off to the galley in search of
food. The cook gave him a large tinful of rancid fat, which was at once
devoured, then he fled to his retreat under the windlass, and began to
growl and moan. By-and-by we made Santa Anna.

Charley Nyberg, after he had tried the dog by setting him on to two
Solomon Island \x93bucks\x94 who were loafing around his house, and seen how
the beast could bite, said he would give us thirteen dollars and a fat
hog for him. We agreed, and Dandy was taken on shore and chained up
outside the cook-house to keep away thieving natives.

About nine o\x92clock that evening, as the skipper and I were sitting on
deck, we heard a fearful yell from Charley\x92s house--a few hundred
yards away from where we were anchored. The yell was followed by a wild
clamour from many hundreds of native throats, and we saw several scores
of people rushing towards the trader\x92s dwelling. Then came the sound of
two shots in quick succession.

\x93Haul the boat alongside,\x94 roared our skipper, \x93there\x92s mischief going
on on shore.\x94

In a minute we, with the boat\x92s crew, had seized our arms, tumbled into
the boat and were racing for the beach.

Jumping out, we tore to the house. It seemed pretty quiet. Charley
was in his sitting-room, binding up his wife\x92s hand, and smoking in an
unconcerned sort of a way.

\x93What is wrong, Charley?\x94 we asked.

\x93That infernal mongrel of yours nearly bit my wife\x92s hand off. Did it
when she tried to stroke him. I soon settled him. If you go to the back
you will see some native women preparing the brute for the oven. The
niggers here like baked dog. Guess you fellows will have to give me back
that thirteen dollars. But you can keep the hog.\x94

So Dandy came to a just and fitting end.



CHAPTER X ~ KALA-HOI, THE NET-MAKER

Old Kala-hoi, the net-maker, had ceased work for the day, and was seated
on a mat outside his little house, smoking his pipe, looking dreamily
out upon the blue waters of Leone Bay, on Tutuila Island, and enjoying
the cool evening breeze that blew upon his bare limbs and played with
the two scanty tufts of snow-white hair that grew just above his ears.

As he sat and smoked in quiet content, Marsh (the mate of our vessel)
and I discerned him from the beach, as we stepped out of the boat We
were both tired--Marsh with weighing and stowing bags of copra in the
steaming hold, and I with paying the natives for it in trade goods--a
task that had taken me from dawn till supper time. Then, as the smell of
the copra and the heat of the cabin were not conducive to the enjoyment
of supper, we first had a bathe alongside the ship, got into clean
pyjamas and came on shore to have a chat with old Kala-hoi.

\x93Got anything to eat, Kala-hoi?\x94 we asked, as we sat down on the mat, in
front of the ancient, who smilingly bade us welcome.

\x93My oven is made; and in it are a fat mullet, four breadfruit, some
_taro_ and plenty of _ifi_ (chestnuts). For to-day is Saturday, and I
have cooked for to-morrow as well as for to-night.\x94 Then lapsing into
his native Hawaiian (which both my companion and I understood), he
added, \x93And most heartily are ye welcome. In a little while the oven
will be ready for uncovering and we shall eat.\x94

\x93But how will you do for food to-morrow, Kala-hoi?\x94 inquired Marsh, with
a smile and speaking in English.

\x93To-morrow is not yet. When it comes I shall have more food. I have but
to ask of others and it is given willingly. And even if it were not so,
I would but have to pluck some more breadfruit or dig some taro and kill
a fowl--and cook again to night.\x94 And then with true native courtesy he
changed the subject and asked us if we had enjoyed our swim. Not much,
we replied, the sea-water was too warm from the heat of the sun.

He nodded. \x93Aye, the day has been hot and windless until now, when the
cool land breeze comes down between the valleys from the mountains. But
why did ye not bathe in the stream in the fresh water, as I have just
done. It is a good thing to do, for it makes hunger as well as cleanses
the skin, and that the salt water will not do.\x94

Marsh and I lit our pipes. The old man rose, went into his house and
returned with a large mat and two bamboo pillows, telling us it would be
more comfortable to lie down and rest our backs, for he knew that we
had \x93toiled much during the day\x94. Then he resumed his own mat again, and
crossed his hands on his tatooed knees, for although not a Samoan he was
tatooed in the Samoan fashion. Beside him was a Samoan Bible, for he was
a deeply religious old fellow, and could both read and write.

\x93How comes it, Kala, that thou livest all alone half a league from the
village?\x94 asked Marsh.

Kala-hoi showed his still white and perfect teeth in a smile.

\x93Ah, why? Because, O friend, this is mine own land. I am, as thou
knowest, of Maui, in Hawaii, and though for thirty and nine years have
I lived in Samoa, yet now that my wife and two sons are dead, I would be
by myself. This land, which measures two hundred fathoms on three sides,
and one hundred at the beach, was given to me by Mauga, King of Tutuila,
because, ten years ago, when his son was shot in the thigh with a round
bullet, I cut it out from where it had lodged against the bone.\x94

\x93How old are you, Kala-hoi?\x94

\x93I know not. But I am old, very old. Yet I am young--still young. I was
a grown man when Wilkes, the American Commodore, came to Samoa. And I
went on board the _Vincennes_ when she came to Apia, and because I spoke
English well, _le alii Saua_ [\x91the cruel captain\x92), as we called him,{*}
made much of me, and treated me with some honour. Ah, he was a stern
man, and his eye was as the eye of an eagle.\x94

     * Wilkes was called \x93the cruel captain\x94 by the Samoans on
     account of his iron discipline.

Marsh nodded acquiescence. \x93Aye, he was a strong, stern man. More than
a score of years after thou hadst seen him here in Samoa, he was like to
have brought about a bloody war between my country and his. Yet he did
but what was right and just--to my mind. And I am an Englishman.\x94

Kala-hoi blew a stream of smoke through his nostrils.

\x93Aye, indeed, a stern man, and with a bitter tongue. But because of
his cruelty to his men was he punished, for in Fiji the _kai tagata_
(cannibals) killed his nephew. And yet he spoke always kindly to me, and
gave me ten Mexican dollars because I did much interpretation for him
with the chiefs of Samoa.... One day there came on board the ship two
white men; they were _papalagi t\xE0fea_ (beachcombers) and were like
Samoans, for they wore no clothes, and were tatooed from their waists
to their knees as I am. They went to the forepart of the ship and began
talking to the sailors. They were very saucy men and proud of their
appearance. The Commodore sent for them, and he looked at them with
scorn--one was an Englishman, the other a Dane. This they told him.

\x93\x91O ye brute beasts,\x92 he said, and he spat over the side of the ship
contempt \x91Were ye Americans I would trice ye both up and give ye each
a hundred lashes, for so degrading thyselves. Out of my ship, ye filthy
tatooed swine. Thou art a disgrace to thy race!\x92 So terrified were they
that they could not speak, and went away in shame.\x94

\x93Thou hast seen many things in thy time, Kala-hoi.\x94

\x93Nay, friend. Not such things as thou hast seen--such as the sun at
midnight, of which thou hast told me, and which had any man but thou
said it, I would have cried \x91Liar!\x92\x94

Marsh laughed--\x93Yet \x91tis true, old Kala-hoi. I have seen the sun at
midnight, many, many times.\x94

\x93Aye. Thou sayest, and I believe. Now, let me uncover my oven so that we
may eat. \x91Tis a fine fat mullet.\x94

After we had eaten, the kindly old man brought us a bowl of water in
which to lave our hands, and then a spotless white towel, for he had
associated much with Europeans in his younger days and had adopted many
of their customs. On Sundays he always wore to church coat, trousers,
shirt, collar and necktie and boots (minus socks) and covered his bald
pate with a wide hat or _fala_ leaf. Moreover, he was a deacon.

Presently we heard voices, and a party of young people of both sexes
appeared. They had been bathing in the stream and were now returning to
the village. In most of them I recognised \x93customers\x94 of mine during the
day--they were carrying baskets and bundles containing the goods bought
from the ship. They all sat down around us, began to make cigarettes
of strong twist tobacco, roll it in strips of dried banana leaf, and
gossip. Then Kala-hoi--although he was a deacon--asked the girls if
they would make us a bowl of kava. They were only too pleased, and so
Kala-hoi again rose, went to his house and brought out a root of kava,
the kava-bowl and some gourds of water, and gave them to the giggling
maidens who, securing a mat for themselves, withdrew a little distance
and proceeded to make the drink, the young men attending upon them
to-cut the kava into thin, flaky strips, and leaving us three to
ourselves. Night had come, and the bay was very quiet. Here and there
on the opposite side lights began to gleam through the lines of palms on
the beach from isolated native houses, as the people ate their evening
meal by the bright flame of a pile of coco-nut shells or a lamp of
coco-nut oil.

Marsh wanted the old man to talk.

\x93How long since is it that thy wife and sons died, Kala-hoi?\x94

The old man placed his brown, shapely hand on the seaman\x92s knee, and
answered softly:--

\x93\x91Tis twenty years\x94.

\x93They died together, did they not?\x94

\x93Nay--not together, but on the same day. Thou hast heard something of
it?\x94

\x93Only something. And if it doth not hurt thee to speak of it, I should
like to know how such a great misfortune came to thee.\x94

The net-maker looked into the white man\x92s face, and read sympathy in his
eyes.

\x93Friend, this was the way of it. Because of my usefulness to him as an
interpreter of English, Taula, chief of Samatau, gave me his niece,
Mo\xE9, in marriage. She was a strong girl, and handsome, but had a sharp
tongue. Yet she loved me, and I loved her.

\x93We were happy. We lived at the town of Tufu on the _itu papa_\x94
 (iron-bound coast) \x93of Savai\x92i. Mo\xE9 bore me boy twins. They grew up
strong, hardy and courageous, though, like their mother, they were
quick-tempered, and resented reproof, even from me, their father. And
often they quarrelled and fought.

\x93When they were become sixteen years of age, they were tatooed in the
Samoan fashion, and that cost me much in money and presents. But Tui,
who was the elder by a little while, was jealous that his brother G\xE2lu
had been tatooed first. And yet the two loved each other--as I will show
thee.

\x93One day my wife and the two boys went into the mountains to get wild
bananas. They cut three heavy bunches and were returning home, when
G\xE2lu and Tui began to quarrel, on the steep mountain path. They came to
blows, and their mother, in trying to separate them, lost her footing
and fell far below on to a bed of lava. She died quickly.

\x93The two boys descended and held her dead body in their arms for a long
while, and wept together over her face. Then they carried her down the
mountain side into the village, and said to the people:--

\x93\x91We, Tui and G\xE2lu, have killed our mother through our quarrelling. Tell
our father Kala-hoi, that we fear to meet him, and now go to expiate our
crime.\x92

\x93They ran away swiftly; they climbed the mountain side, and, with arms
around each other, sprang over the cliff from which their mother had
fallen. And when I, and many others with me, found them, they were both
dead.\x94

\x93Thou hast had a bitter sorrow, Kala-hoi.\x94 \x93Aye, a bitter sorrow. But
yet in my dreams I see them all. And sometimes, even in my work, as I
make my nets, I hear the boys\x92 voices, quarrelling, and my wife saying,
\x91Be still, ye boys, lest I call thy father to chastise thee both \x91.\x94

As the girls brought us the kava Marsh put his hand on the old, smooth,
brown pate, and saw that the eyes of the net-maker were filled with
tears.



CHAPTER XI ~ THE KANAKA LABOUR TRADE IN THE PACIFIC

The _fiat_ has gone forth from the Australian Commonwealth, and the
Kanaka labour trade, as far as the Australian Colonies are concerned,
has ceased to exist. For, during the month of November, 1906, the
Queensland Government began to deport to their various islands in the
Solomon and New Hebrides Groups, the last of the Melanesian native
labourers employed on the Queensland sugar plantations.

The Kanaka labour traffic, generally termed \x93black-birding,\x94 began about
1863, when sugar and cotton planters found that natives of the South
Sea Islands could be secured at a much less cost than Chinese or Indian
coolies. The genesis of the traffic was a tragedy, and filled the world
with horror.

Three armed Peruvian ships, manned by gangs of cut-throats, appeared in
the South Pacific, and seized over four hundred unfortunate natives in
the old African slave-trading fashion, and carried them away to work the
guano deposits on the Chincha Islands. Not a score of them returned to
their island homes--the rest perished under the lash and brutality of
their cruel taskmasters.

Towards 1870 the demand for South Sea Islanders became very great. They
were wanted in the Sandwich Islands, in Tahiti and Samoa; for, naturally
enough, with their ample food supply, the natives of these islands do
not like plantation work, or if employed demand a high rate of pay.
Then, too, the Queensland and Fijian sugar planters joined in the
quest, and at one time there were over fifty vessels engaged in securing
Kanakas from the Gilbert Islands, the Solomon and New Hebrides Groups,
and the great islands near New Guinea.

At that time there was no Government supervision of the traffic. Any
irresponsible person could fit out a ship, and bring a cargo of human
beings into port--obtained by means fair or foul--and no questions were
asked.

Very soon came the news of the infamous story of the brig _Carl_ and
her fiendish owner, a Dr. Murray, who with half a dozen other scoundrels
committed the most awful crimes--shooting down in cold blood scores
of natives who refused to be coerced into \x93recruiting\x94. Some of these
ruffians went to the scaffold or to long terms of imprisonment; and
from that time the British Government in a maundering way set to work
to effect some sort of supervision of the British ships employed in the
\x93blackbirding\x94 trade.

A fleet of five small gunboats (sailing vessels) were built in Sydney,
and were ordered to \x93overhaul and inspect every blackbirder,\x94 and
ascertain if the \x93blackbirds\x94 were really willing recruits, or had been
deported against their will, and were \x93to be sold as slaves\x94. And many
atrocious deeds came to light, with the result, as far as Queensland was
concerned, that every labour ship had to carry a Government agent, who
was supposed to see that no abuses occurred. Some of these Government
agents were conscientious men, and did their duty well; others were
mere tools of the greedy planters, and lent themselves to all sorts of
villainies to obtain \x93recruits\x94 and get an _in camera_ bonus of twenty
pounds for every native they could entice on board.

Owing to my knowledge of Polynesian and Melane-sian dialects, I was
frequently employed as \x93recruiter\x94 on many \x93blackbirders\x94--French
vessels from Noumea in New Caledonia, Hawaiian vessels from Honolulu,
and German and English vessels sailing from Samoa and Fiji, and in no
instance did I ever have any serious trouble with my \x93blackbirds\x94 after
they were once on board the ship of which I was \x93recruiter\x94.

Let me now describe an ordinary cruise of a \x93blackbirder\x94 vessel--an
honest ship with an honest skipper and crew, and, above all, a straight
\x93recruiter\x94--a man who takes his life in his hands when he steps out,
unarmed, from his boat, and seeks for \x93recruits\x94 from a crowd of the
wildest savages imaginable.

Labour ships carry a double crew--one to work the ship, the other to man
the boats, of which there are usually four on ordinary-sized vessels.
They are whale-boats, specially adapted for surf work. The boats\x92 crews
are invariably natives--Rotumah men, Samoans, or Savage Islanders. The
ship\x92s working crew also are in most cases natives, and the captain and
officers are, of course, white men.

The \x91tween decks are fitted to accommodate so many \x93blackbirds,\x94 and, at
the present day, British labour ships are models of cleanliness, for the
Government supervision is very rigid; but in former days the hold of
a \x93blackbirder\x94 often presented a horrid spectacle--the unfortunate
\x93recruits\x94 being packed so closely together, and at night time the odour
from their steaming bodies was absolutely revolting as it ascended
from the open hatch, over which stood two sentries on the alert; for
sometimes the \x93blackbirds\x94 would rise and attempt to murder the ship\x92s
company. In many cases they did so successfully--especially when the
\x93blackbirds\x94 came from the same island, or group of islands, and spoke
the same language. When there were, say, a hundred or two hundred
\x93recruits\x94 from various islands, dissimilar in their language and
customs, there was no fear of such an event, and the captain and
officers and \x93recruiter\x94 went to sleep with a feeling of security.

Let us now suppose that a \x93blackbirder\x94 (obnoxious name to many
recruiters) from Samoa, Fiji, or Queensland, has reached one of the New
Hebrides, or Solomon Islands. Possibly she may anchor--if there is an
anchorage; but most likely she will \x93lie off and on,\x94 and send away her
boats to the various villages.

On one occasion I \x93worked\x94 the entire length of one side of the great
island of San Cristoval, visiting nearly every village from Cape
Recherch\xE9 to Cape Surville. This took nearly three weeks, the ship
following the boats along the coast. We would leave the ship at
daylight, and pull in shore, landing wherever we saw a smoke signal, or
a village. When I had engaged, say, half a dozen recruits, I would send
them off on board, and continue on my way. At sunset I would return on
board, the boats would be hoisted up, and the ship either anchor, or
heave-to for the night. On this particular trip the boats were only
twice fired at, but no one man of my crews was hit.

The boats are known as \x93landing\x94 and \x93covering\x94 boats. The former is in
command of an officer and the recruiter, carries five hands (all armed)
and also the boxes of \x93trade\x94 goods to be exhibited to the natives as
specimens of the rest of the goods on board, or perhaps some will be
immediately handed over as an \x93advance\x94 to any native willing to
recruit as a labourer in Queensland or elsewhere for three years, at the
magnificent wage of six pounds per annum, generally paid in rubbishing
articles, worth about thirty shillings.

The \x93covering\x94 boat is in charge of an officer, or reliable seaman. She
follows the \x93landing\x94 boat at a short distance, and her duty is to cover
her retreat if the natives should attack the landing boat by at once
opening fire, and giving those in that boat a chance of pushing off
and getting out of danger, and also she sometimes receives on board the
\x93recruits\x94 as they are engaged by the recruiter--if the latter has not
been knocked on the head or speared.

On nearing the beach, where the natives are waiting, the officer in the
landing-boat swings her round with his steer oar, and the crew back her
in, stern first, on to the beach. The recruiter then steps out, and the
crew carry the trade chests on shore; then the boat pushes off a
little, just enough to keep afloat, and obtrusive natives, who may mean
treachery, are not allowed to come too near the oars, or take hold of
the gunwale, Meanwhile the covering boat has drawn in close to the first
boat, and the crew, with their hands on their rifles, keep a keen watch
on the landing boat and the wretched recruiter.

The recruiter, if he is a wise man, will not display any arms openly. To
do so makes the savage natives either sulky or afraid, and I never let
them see mine, which I, however, always kept handy in a harmless-looking
canvas bag, which also contained some tobacco, cut up in small pieces,
to throw to the women and children--to put them in a good temper.

The recruiter opens his trade box, and then asks if there is any man
or woman who desires to become rich in three years by working on a
plantation in Fiji, Queensland, or Samoa.

If he can speak the language, and does not lose his nerve by being
surrounded by hundreds of ferocious and armed savages, and knowing that
at any instant he may be cut down from behind by a tomahawk, or speared,
or clubbed, he will get along all right, and soon find men willing to
recruit Especially is this so if he is a man personally known to the
natives, and has a good reputation for treating his \x93blackbirds\x94 well
on board the ship. The ship and her captain, too, enter largely into the
matter of a native making up his mind to \x93recruit,\x94 or refuse to do so.

Sometimes there may be among the crowd of natives several who have
already been to Queensland, or elsewhere, and desire to return. These
may be desirable recruits, or, on the other hand, may be the reverse,
and have bad records. I usually tried to shunt these fellows from again
recruiting, as they often made mischief on board, would plan to capture
the ship, and such other diversions, but I always found them useful as
touts in gaining me new recruits, by offering these scamps a suitable
present for each man they brought me.

I always made it a practice never to recruit a married man, unless his
wife--or an alleged wife--came with him, nor would I take them if they
had young children--who would simply be made slaves of in their absence.
It required the utmost tact and discretion to get at the truth in many
cases, and very often on going on board after a day of toil and danger
I would be sound asleep, when a young couple would swim off--lovers who
had eloped--and beg me to take them away in the ship. This I would never
do until I had seen the local chief, and was assured that no objection
would be made to their leaving.

(When I was recruiting \x93black labour\x94 for the French and German planters
in Samoa and Tahiti, I was, of course, sailing in ships of those
nationalities, and had no worrying Government agent to harass and
hinder me by his interference, for only ships under British colours were
compelled to carry \x93Government agents\x94.)

But I must return to the recruiter standing on the beach, surrounded by
a crowd of savages, exercising his patience and brains.

Perhaps at the end of an hour or so eight or ten men are recruited,
and told to either get into one of the boats or go off to the ship in
canoes. The business on shore is then finished, the harassed recruiter
wipes his perspiring brow, says farewell to the people, closes his trade
chest, and steps into his landing boat. The officer cries to the crew,
\x93Give way, lads,\x94 and off goes the boat.

Then the covering boat comes into position astern of the landing boat,
for one never knew the moment that some enraged native on shore might,
for having been rejected as \x93undesirable,\x94 take a snipe-shot at one of
the boats. Only two men pull in the covering boat--the rest of the crew
sit on the thwarts, with their rifles ready, facing aft, until the boats
are out of range.

That is what is the ordinary day\x92s work among the Solomon, New Hebrides,
and other island groups of the Western Pacific But very often it
was--and is now--very different. The recruiter may be at work, when
he is struck down treacherously from behind, and hundreds of
concealed savages rush out, bent on slaughter. Perhaps the eye of some
ever-watchful man in the covering boat has seen crouching figures in the
dense undergrowth of the shores of the bay, and at once fires his rifle,
and the recruiter jumps for his boat, and then there is a cracking
of Winchesters from the covering boat, and a responsive banging of
overloaded muskets from the shore.

Only once was I badly hurt when \x93recruiting\x94. I had visited a rather
big village, but could not secure a single recruit, and I had told the
officer to put off, as it was no use our wasting our time. I then
got into the boat and was stooping down to get a drink from the
water-beaker, when a sudden fusillade of muskets and arrows was opened
upon us from three sides, and I was struck on the right side of the neck
by a round iron bullet, which travelled round just under the skin,
and stopped under my left ear. Some of my crew were badly hit, one man
having his wrist broken by an iron bullet, and another received a heavy
lead bullet in the stomach, and three bamboo arrows in his chest, thigh
and shoulder. He was more afraid of the arrows than the really dangerous
wound in his stomach, for he thought they were poisoned, and that he
would die of lockjaw--like the lamented Commodore Goodenough, who was
shot to death with poisoned arrows at Nukapu in the Santa Cruz Group.

The skipper nicked out the bullet in my neck with his pen-knife, and
beyond two very unsightly scars on each side of my neck, I have nothing
of which to complain, and much to be thankful for; for had I been in
ever so little a more erect position, the ball would have broken my
neck--and some compositors in printing establishments earned a little
less money.



CHAPTER XII ~ MY FRIENDS, THE ANTHROPOPHAGI

Mr. Rudyard Kipling has spoken of what he terms \x93the Great American Pie
Belt,\x94 which runs through certain parts of the United States, the people
of which live largely on pumpkin pie; in the South Pacific there is what
may be vulgarly termed the Great \x93Long Pork\x94 Belt, running through
many groups of islands, the savage inhabitants of which are notorious
cannibals. This belt extends from the New Hebrides north-westerly to
the Solomon Archipelago, thence more westerly to New Ireland and New
Britain, the coasts of Dutch, German, and British New Guinea; and then,
turning south, embraces a considerable portion of the coast line of
Northern Australia. Forty years ago Fiji could have been included,
but cannibalism in that group had long since ceased; as also in New
Caledonia and the Loyalty Islands.

The British, French and German Governments are doing their best to stamp
out the practice. Ships of war patrol the various groups, and wherever
possible, headhunting and man-eating excursions are suppressed; but some
of the islands are of such a vast extent that only the coastal tribes
are affected. In the interior--practically unknown to any white
man--there is a very numerous population of mountaineer tribes, who
are all cannibals, and will remain so for perhaps another fifty years,
unless, as was done in Fiji by Sir Arthur Gordon (now Lord Stanmore), a
large armed force is sent to subdue these people, destroy their towns,
and bring them to settle on the coast, where they may be subjected to
missionary (and police) influence.

During my trading and \x93blackbirding\x94 voyages, I made the acquaintance,
and indeed in some cases the friendship, of many cannibals, and at one
time, when I was doing shore duty, I lived for six months in a large
cannibal village on the north coast of the great island of New Britain,
or Tombara, as the natives call it I had not the slightest fear of being
converted into \x93Long Pig\x94 (_puaka kumi_) for the chief, a hideous, but
yet not bad-natured savage, named Bob\xE2ran, in consideration for certain
gifts of muskets, powder, bullets, etc, and tobacco, became responsible
for my safety with his own people during my stay, but would not, of
course, guarantee to protect me from the people of other districts (even
though he might not be at enmity with them) if I ventured into their
territory.

This was the usual agreement made by white traders who established
themselves on shore under the _\xE6gis_ of a native ruler. Very rarely was
this confidence abused. Generally the white men, sailors or traders
who have been (and are even now) killed and eaten, have been cut off
by savages other than those among whom they lived--very often by
mountaineers.

Bob\xE2ran and all his people were noted cannibals. He was continually at
war with his neighbours on the opposite side of the bay, where there
were three populous towns, and there was much fighting, and losses on
both sides. During my stay there were over thirty people eaten at, or in
the immediate vicinity of, my village. Some of these were taken alive,
and then slaughtered on being brought in; others had been killed in
battle. But about eighteen months before I came to live at this
place, Bob\xE2ran had had a party of twenty of his people cut off by the
enemy--and every one of these were eaten.

I parted from Bob\xE2ran on very friendly terms. I should have stayed
longer, but was suffering from malarial fever.

After recruiting my health in New Zealand, I joined a labour vessel,
sailing out of Samoa, and during the ten months I served on her as
recruiter I had some exceedingly exciting adventures with cannibals
among the islands off the coast of German New Guinea, and on the
mainland.

On our way to the \x93blackbirding grounds\x94 we sighted the lofty Rossel
Island--the scene of one of the most awful cannibal tragedies ever
known. It is one of the Louisiade Archipelago, and is at the extreme
south end of British New Guinea. It presents a most enchanting
appearance, owing to its verdured mountains (9,000 feet), countless
cataracts, and beautiful bays fringed with coco-palms and other tropical
trees, amidst which stand the thatched-roofed houses of the natives. I
will tell the story of Rossel Island in as few words as possible:--

In 1852 a Peruvian barque, carrying 325 Chinese coolies for Tahiti, was
wrecked on the island; the captain and crew took to the four boats, and
left the Chinamen to shift for themselves. Hundreds of savage natives
rushed the vessel, killed a few of the coolies, and drove the rest on
shore, where for some days they were not molested, the natives being too
busy in plundering the ship. But after this was completed they turned
their attention to their captives, marshalled them together, made them
enter canoes and carried them off to a small, but fertile island. Here
they were told to occupy a deserted village, and do as they pleased, but
not to attempt to leave the island. The poor Chinamen were overjoyed,
little dreaming of what was to befal them. The island abounded with
vegetables and fruit, and the shipwrecked men found no lack of food. But
they discovered that they were prisoners--every canoe had been removed.
This at first caused them no alarm, but when at the end of a week
their jailers appeared and carried off ten of their number, they became
restless. And then almost every day, two, three or more were taken
away, and never returned. Then the poor wretches discovered that their
comrades were being killed and eaten day by day!

To escape from the island was impossible, for it was four miles from the
mainland, and they had no canoes, and the water was literally alive with
sharks. Some of them, wild with terror, built a raft out of dead timber,
and tried to put to sea. They were seen by the Rossel Islanders, pursued
and captured, and slaughtered for the cannibal ovens, which were now
never idle. Some poor creatures, who could swim, tried to cross to
another little island two miles away, but were devoured by sharks.
Without arms to defend their lives, they saw themselves decimated week
by week, for whenever the natives came to seize some of their number for
their ovens they came in force.

Six or seven months passed, and then one day the French corvette
_Phoque_ (if I am not mistaken in the name) appeared off the island. She
had been sent by the Governor of New Caledonia to ascertain if any of
the Chinamen were still on the island, or if all had escaped. Two only
survived. They were seen running along the beach to meet the boats from
the corvette, and were taken on board half-demented--all the rest had
gone into the stomach of the cannibals or the sharks.

At the present time the natives of Rossel Island are subjects of King
Edward VII., and are included in the government of the Possession of
British New Guinea; have, I believe, a resident missionary, and several
traders, and are well behaved They would cast up their eyes in pious
horror if any visitor now suggested that they had once been addicted to
\x93long pig \x93.

Ten days after passing Rossel Island, we were among the islands of
Dampier and Vitiaz Straits, which separate the western end of New
Britain from the east coast of New Guinea. It was an absolutely new
ground for recruiting \x93blackbirds\x94 and our voyage was in reality but
an experiment. We (the officers and I) knew that the natives were a
dangerous lot of savage cannibals, speaking many dialects, and had
hitherto only been in communication with an occasional whaleship, or a
trading, pearling, or, in the \x93old\x94 colonial days, a sandal-wood-seeking
vessel. But we had no fear of being cut off. We had a fine craft, with a
high freeboard, so that if we were rushed by canoes, the boarders would
find some trouble in clambering on deck; on the main deck we carried
four six-pounders, which were always kept in good order and could be
loaded with grape in a few minutes. Then our double crew were all well
armed with Sharp\x92s carbines and the latest pattern of Colt\x92s revolvers;
and, above all, the captain had confidence in his crew and officers, and
they in him. I, the recruiter, had with me as interpreter a very smart
native of Ysabel Island (Solomon Group) who, five years before, had been
wrecked on Rook Island, in Vitiaz Straits, had lived among the cannibal
natives for a year, and then been rescued by an Austrian man-of-war
engaged on an exploration voyage. He said that he could make himself
well understood by the natives--and this I found to be correct.

We anchored in a charming little bay on Rook Island (Baga), and at once
some hundreds of natives came off and boarded us in the most fearless
manner. They at once recognised my interpreter, and danced about him and
yelled their delight at seeing him again. Every one of these savages was
armed with half a dozen spears, a jade-headed club, or powerful bows and
arrows, and a wooden shield. They were a much finer type of savage
than the natives of New Britain, lighter in colour, and had not so many
repulsive characteristics. Neither were they absolutely nude--each man
wearing a girdle of dracaena leaves, and although they were betel-nut
chewers, and carried their baskets of areca nuts and leaves and powdered
lime around their necks, they did not expectorate the disgusting scarlet
juice all over our decks as the New Britain natives would have done.

We noticed that many of them had recently inflicted wounds, and learned
from them that a few days previously they had had a great fight with the
natives of Tupinier Island (twenty miles to the east) and had been badly
beaten, losing sixteen men. But, they proudly added, they had been able
to carry off eleven of the enemy\x92s dead, and had only just finished
eating them. The chiefs brother, they said, had been badly wounded by
a bullet in the thigh (the Tupinier natives had a few muskets) and was
suffering great pain, as the \x93doctors\x94 could not get it out.

Now here was a chance for me--something which would perhaps lead to our
getting a number of these cannibals to recruit for Samoa. I considered
myself a good amateur surgeon (I had had plenty of practice) and at once
volunteered to go on shore, look at the injured gentleman and see what
I could do. My friend Bob\xE2ran in New Britain I had cured of an eczemic
disorder by a very simple remedy, and he had been a grateful patient.
Here was another chance, and possibly another grateful patient; and this
being a case of a gunshot wound, I was rather keen on attending to it,
for the Polynesians and Melanesians will stand any amount of cutting
about and never flinch (and there are no coroners in the South Seas to
ask silly questions if the patient dies from a mistake of the operator).

Morel (the captain), the interpreter and myself went on shore. The beach
was crowded with women and children, as well as men--a sure sign that
no treachery was intended--and nearly all of them tried to embrace my
interpreter. The clamour these cannibals made was terrific, the children
being especially vociferous. Several of them seized my hands, and
literally dragged me along to the house of the wounded man; others
possessed themselves of Morel and the interpreter, and in a few minutes
the whole lot of us tumbled, or rather fell, into the house. Then, in an
instant, there was silence--the excited women and children withdrew and
left the captain, the interpreter, some male cannibals and myself with
my patient, who was sitting up, placidly chewing betel-nut.

In ten minutes Morel and I got out the bullet, then dressed and bandaged
the wound, and gave the man a powerful opiate. Leaving him with his
friends, Morel and I went for a walk through the village. Everywhere the
natives were very civil, offering us coco-nuts and food, and even the
women and children did not show much fear at our presence.

Returning to the house, we found our wounded friend was awake, and
sitting up on his mat He smiled affably at us, and rubbed noses with
me--a practice I have never before seen among the Melanesians of this
part of the Pacific. Then he told us that his womenfolk were preparing
us a meal which would soon be ready. I asked him gravely (through the
interpreter) not to serve us any human flesh. He replied quite calmly
that there was none left--the last had been eaten five days before.

Presently the meal was carried in--baked pork, an immense fish of the
mullet kind, yams, taro, and an enormous quantity of sugar-cane and
pineapples. The women did not eat with us, but sat apart. Our friend,
whose name was D\xE2rro, had six wives, four of whom were present He had
also a number of female slaves, taken from an island in Vitiaz Straits.
These were rather light-skinned, and some quite good-looking, and all
wore girdles of dracaena leaves. Neither D\xE2rro nor his people smoked,
though they knew the use of pipe and tobacco, and at one time had been
given both by a sandal-wooding ship. I promised to give them a present
of a ten pound case of plug tobacco, and a gross of clay pipes--I was
thinking of \x93recruits\x94. I sent off to the brig for the present, and when
it arrived, and I had given nearly one hundred and fifty cannibals a
pipe and a plug of tobacco each, the interpreter and I got to work on
D\xE2rro on the subject of our mission.

Alas! He would not entertain the idea of any of his fighting men going
to an unknown land for three years. We could have perhaps a score or so
of women--widows or slaves. Would that suit us? No, I said. We did not
want single women or widows. There must be a man to each woman.

D\xE2rro was \x93very sorry\x94 (so was I). But perhaps I and the captain would
accept two of the youngest of his female slaves as a token of his regard
for us?

Morel and I consulted, and then we asked D\xE2rro if he could not give us
two slave couples--two men and two women who would be willing to marry,
and also willing to go to a country and work, a country where they would
be well treated, and paid for their labour. And at the end of three
years they would be brought back to D\xE2rro, if they so desired.

D\xE2rro smiled and gave some orders, and two strapping young men and two
pleasant-faced young women were brought for my inspection. All were
smiling, and I felt that a bishop and a brass band or surpliced
choristers ought to have been present.

These were the only \x93blackbirds\x94 we secured on that voyage from Rook
Island; but three and a half years later, when these two couples
returned to D\xE2rro, with a \x93vast\x94 wealth of trade goods, estimated at
\x93trade\x94 prices at seventy-two pounds, D\xE2rro never refused to let some of
his young men \x93recruit\x94 for Fiji or Samoa.

I never saw him again, but he sent messages to me by other
\x93blackbirding\x94 vessels, saying that he would like me to come and stay
with him.

And, although he had told me that he had personally partaken of
the flesh of over ninety men, I shall always remember him as a very
gentlemanly man, courteous, hospitable and friendly, and who was
horror-struck when my interpreter told him that in England cousins
intermarried.

\x93That is a horrid, an unutterable thing. It is inconceivable to us.
It is vile, wicked and shameless. How can you clever white men do such
disgusting things?\x94

D\xE2rro and his savage people knew the terrors of the abuse of the laws of
consanguinity.



CHAPTER XIII ~ ON THE \x93JOYS\x94 OF RECRUITING \x93BLACKBIRDS\x94

A few years ago I was written to by an English lady, living in the
Midlands, asking me if I could assist her nephew--a young man of three
and twenty years of age--towards obtaining a berth as Government agent
or as \x93recruiter\x94 on a Queensland vessel employed in the Kanaka labour
trade.

\x93I am told that it is a very gentlemanly employment, that many of those
engaged in it are, or have been, naval officers and have a recognised
status in society. Also that the work is really nothing--merely the
supervision of coloured men going to the Queensland plantations. The
climate is, I am told, delightful, and would suit Walter, whose lungs,
as you know, are weak. Is the salary large?\x94 etc.

I had to write and disillusionise the lady, and as I wrote I recalled
one of my experiences in the Kanaka labour trade.

Early in the seventies, I was in Noum\xE9a, New Caledonia, looking for a
berth as recruiter in the Kanaka labour trade; but there were many older
and much more experienced men than myself engaged on the same quest, and
my efforts were in vain.

One morning, however, I met a Captain Poore, who was the owner and
master of a small vessel, just about to leave Noum\xE9a on a trading
voyage along the east coast of New Guinea, and among the islands between
Astrolabe Bay and the West Cape of New Britain. He did not want a
supercargo; but said that he would be very glad if I would join him, and
if the voyage was a success he would pay me for such help as I might
be able to render him. I accepted his offer, and in a few days we left
Noum\xE9a.

Poore and I were soon on very friendly terms. He was a man of vast
experience in the South Seas, and, except that he was subject to
occasional violent outbursts of temper when anything went wrong, was an
easy man to get on with, and a pleasant comrade.

The mate was the only other European on board, besides the captain and
myself, all the crew, including the boatswain, being either Polynesians
or Melanesians. The whole ten of them were fairly good seamen and worked
well.

A few days after leaving Noum\xE9a, Poore took me into his confidence,
and told me that, although he certainly intended to make a trading
and recruiting voyage, he had another object in view, and that was to
satisfy himself as to the location of some immense copper deposits that
had been discovered on Rook Island--midway between New Britain and New
Guinea--by some shipwrecked seamen.

Twenty-two days out from Noum\xE9a, the _Samana_, as the schooner was
named, anchored in a well-sheltered and densely-wooded little bay on the
east side of Rook Island. The place was uninhabited, though, far back,
from the lofty mountains of the interior, we could see several columns
of smoke arising, showing the position of mountaineer villages.

It was then ten o\x92clock in the morning, and Poore, feeling certain that
in this part of the coast there were no native villages, determined to
go ashore, and do a little prospecting. (I must mention that, owing to
light weather and calms, we had been obliged to anchor where we had to
avoid being drifted on shore by the fierce currents, which everywhere
sweep and eddy around Rook Island, and that we were quite twenty miles
from the place where the copper lode had been discovered.)

Taking with us two of the native seamen, Poore and I set off on shore
shortly after ten o\x92clock, and landed on a rough, shingly beach. The
extent of littoral on this part of the island was very small, a bold
lofty chain of mountains coming down to within a mile of the sea, and
running parallel with the coast as far as we could see. The vegetation
was dense, and in some places came down to the water\x92s edge, and
although the country showed a tropical luxuriance of beauty about the
seashore, the dark, gloomy, and silent mountain valleys which everywhere
opened up from the coast, gave it a repellent appearance in general.

Leaving the natives (who were armed with rifles and tomahawks) in charge
of the boat, and telling them to pull along the shore and stop when we
stopped, Poore and I set out to walk.

My companion was armed with a Henry-Winchester carbine, and I with a
sixteen-bore breech-loading shotgun and a tomahawk. I had brought the
gun instead of a rifle, feeling sure that I could get some cockatoos or
pigeons on our way back, for we had heard and seen many flying about as
soon as we had anchored. At the last moment I put into my canvas game
bag four round bullet cartridges, as Poore said there were many wild
pigs on the island.

On rounding the eastern point of the bay we were delighted to come
across a beautiful beach of hard white sand, fringed with coco-nut
palms, and beyond was a considerable stretch of open park-like country.
Just as Poore and I were setting off inland to examine the base of a
spur about a mile distant, one of the men said he could see the mouth of
a river farther on along the beach.

This changed our plans, and sending the boat on ahead, we kept to the
beach, and soon reached the river--or rather creek. It was narrow but
deep, the boat entered it easily and went up it for a mile, we walking
along the bank, which was free of undergrowth, but covered with high,
coarse, reed-like grass. Then the boat\x92s progress was barred by a huge
fallen tree, which spanned the stream. Here we spelled for half an hour,
and had something to eat, and then again Poore and I set out, following
the upward course of the creek. Finding it was leading us away from the
spur we wished to examine, we stopped to decide what to do, and then
heard the sound of two gun-shots in quick succession, coming from the
direction of the place in which the boat was lying. We were at once
filled with alarm, knowing that the men must be in danger of some sort,
and that neither of them could have fired at a wild pig, no matter how
tempting a shot it offered, for we had told them not to do so.

\x93Perhaps they have fallen foul of an alligator,\x94 said Poore, \x93all the
creeks on Rook Island are full of them. Come along, and let us see what
is wrong.\x94

Running through the open, timber country, and then through the long
grass on the banks of the stream, we had reached about half-way to the
boat when we heard a savage yell--or rather yells--for it seemed to come
from a hundred throats, and in an instant we both felt sure that the
boat had been attacked.

Madly forcing our way through the infernal reed-like grass, which every
now and then caused us to trip and fall, we had just reached a bend of
the creek, which gave us a clear sight of its course for about three
hundred yards, when Poore tripped over a fallen tree branch; I fell on
the top of him, and my face struck his upturned right foot with such
violence that the blood poured from my nose in a torrent, and for half a
minute I was stunned.

\x93Good God, look at that!\x94 cried Poore, pointing down stream.

Crossing a shallow part of the creek were a party of sixty or seventy
savages, all armed with spears and clubs. Four of them who were leading
were carrying on poles from their shoulders the naked and headless
bodies of our two unfortunate sailors, and the decapitated heads were
in either hand of an enormously fat man, who from his many shell armlets
and other adornments was evidently the leader. So close were they--less
than fifty yards--that we easily recognised one of the bodies by its
light yellow skin as that of Anteru (Andrew), a native of Rotumah, and
one of the best men we had on the _Samana_.

Before I could stay his hand and point out the folly of it, Poore stood
up and shot the fat savage through the stomach, and I saw the blood
spurt from his side, as the heavy, flat-nosed bullet ploughed its
way clean through the man, who, still clutching the two heads in his
ensanguined hands, stood upright for a few seconds, and then fell with a
splash into the stream.

Yells of rage and astonishment came from the savages, as Poore, now wild
with fury, began to fire at them indiscriminately, until the magazine of
his rifle was emptied; but he was so excited that only two or three of
them were hit. Then his senses came back to him.

\x93Quick, into the creek, and over to the other side, or they\x92ll cut us
off.\x94

We clambered down the bank into the water, and then, by some mischance,
Poore, who was a bad swimmer, dropped his rifle, and began uttering the
most fearful oaths, when I told him that it was no use my trying to dive
for it, unless he could hold my shot gun, which I was carrying in my
left hand. We had scarcely reached the opposite bank, when thin, slender
spears began to whizz about us, and one, no thicker than a lead pencil,
caught Poore in the cheek, obliquely, and its point came out quite a
yard from where it had entered, and literally pinned him to the ground.

I have heard some very strong language in the South Seas, but I have
never heard anything so awful as that of Poore when I drew out the
spear, and we started to run for our lives down the opposite bank of the
creek.

For some minutes we panted along through the long grass, hearing
nothing; and then, as we came to an open spot and stopped to gain
breath, we were assailed by a shower of spears from the other side
of the creek, and Poore was again hit--a spear ripping open the flesh
between the forefinger and thumb of his left hand. He seized my gun, and
fired both barrels into the long grass on the other side, and wild yells
showed that some of our pursuers were at least damaged by the heavy No.
I shot intended for cockatoos.

Then all became silent, and we again started, taking all available
cover, and hoping we were not pursued.

We were mistaken, for presently we caught sight of a score of our
enemies a hundred yards ahead, running at top speed, evidently intending
to cross lower down and cut us off, or else secure the boat Poore took
two quick shots at them, but they were too far off, and gave us a
yell of derision. Putting my hand into the game bag to get out two
cartridges, I was horrified to find it empty, every one had fallen out;
my companion used more lurid language, and we pressed on. At last we
reached the boat, and found her floating bottom up--the natives had been
too quick for us.

To have attempted to right her would have meant our being speared by
the savages, who, of course, were watching our every movement. There
was nothing else to do but to keep on, cross the mouth of the creek, and
make for the ship.

Scarcely had we run fifty yards when we saw the grass on the other side
move--the natives were keeping up the chase. Another ten minutes brought
us to the mouth of the stream, and then to our great joy we saw that
the tide had ebbed, and that right before us was a stretch of bare
sand, extending out half a mile. As we emerged into the open we saw our
pursuers standing on the opposite bank. Poore pointed his empty gun at
them, and they at once vanished.

We stopped five minutes to gain breath, and then kept straight on across
the sand, till we sighted the schooner. We were seen almost at once, and
a boat was quickly manned and sent to us, and in a quarter of an hour we
were on board again.

That was one of the joys of the \x93gentlemanly\x94 employment of \x93recruiting\x94
 in the South Seas.



CHAPTER XIV ~ MAKING A FORTUNE IN THE SOUTH SEAS

A short time ago I came across in a daily newspaper the narrative of
a traveller in the South Seas full of illuminating remarks on the ease
with which any one can now acquire a fortune in the Pacific Islands; it
afforded me considerable reflection, mixed with a keen regret that I
had squandered over a quarter of a century of my life in the most
stupid manner, by ignoring the golden opportunities that must have been
jostling me wherever I went. The articles were very cleverly penned, and
really made very pretty reading--so pretty, in fact, that I was moved
to briefly narrate my experience of the subject in the columns of the
_Westminster Gazette_ with the result that many a weary, struggling
trader in the Solomon Islands, the New Hebrides and other groups of
islands in the South Pacific rose up and called me blessed when they
read my article, for I sent five and twenty copies of the paper to as
many traders. Others doubtless obtained the journal from the haughty
brass-bound pursers (there are no \x93supercargoes\x94 now) of the Sydney and
Auckland steamers. For the steamers, with their high-collared, clerkly
pursers, have supplanted for good the trim schooners, with their
brown-faced, pyjama-clad supercargoes, and the romance of the South Seas
has gone. But it has not gone in the imagination of some people.

I must mention that my copies of the _Westminster Gazette_ crossed no
less than nine letters written to me by old friends and comrades from
various islands in the Pacific, asking me to do what I had done--put the
true condition of affairs in Polynesia before the public, and help
to keep unsuitable and moneyless men from going out to the South Sea
Islands to starve. For they had read the illuminating series of articles
to which I refer, and felt very savage.

In a cabin-trunk of mine I have some hundreds of letters, written to
me during the past ten years by people from all parts of the world,
who wanted to go to the South Seas and lead an idyllic life and make
fortunes, and wished me to show them how to go about it. Many of these
letters are amusing, some are pathetic; some, which were so obviously
insane, I did not answer. The rest I did. I cannot reproduce them in
print. I am keeping them to read to my friends in heaven. Even an old
ex-South Sea trader may get there--if he can dodge the other place.
_Quien sabe?_

Twenty-one of these letters reached me in France during February, March
and April of last year. They were written by men and women who had been
reading the above-mentioned series of brilliant articles. (I regret to
state that fourteen only had a penny stamp thereon, and I had to pay
four francs postal dues.) The articles were, as I have said, very
charmingly written, especially the descriptive passages. But nearly
every person that the \x93Special Commissioner\x94 met in the South Seas seems
to have been very energetically and wickedly employed in \x93pulling the
\x91Special Commissioner\x92s leg\x94.

The late Lord Pembroke described two classes of people--\x93those who know
and don\x92t write, and those who write and don\x92t know\x94.

Let me cull a few only of the statements in one of the articles entitled
\x93The Trader\x92s Prospects\x94. It is an article so nicely written that it is
hard to shake off the glamour of it and get to facts. It says:--

\x93The salaries paid by a big Australian firm to its traders may run from
\xA350 to \xA3200 a year, with board (that is, the run of the store) and a
house.\x94

There are possibly fifty men in the Pacific Islands who are receiving
\xA3200 a year from trading firms. Five pounds per month, with a specified
ration list, and 5 per cent, commission on his sales is the usual
thing--and has been so for the past fifteen years. As for taking \x93the
run of the store,\x94 he would be quickly asked to take another run. The
trader who works for a firm has a struggle to exist.

*****

\x93In the Solomons and New Hebrides you can start trading on a capital of
\xA3100 or so, and make cent, per cent, on island produce.\x94

A man would want at least \xA3500 to \xA3600 to start even in the smallest
way. Here are some of his requirements, which he must buy before leaving
Sydney or Auckland to start as an independent trader in Melanesia or
Polynesia: Trade goods, \xA3400; provisions for twelve months, \xA3100; boat
with all gear, from \xA325 to \xA360; tools, firearms, etc, \xA315 to \xA330. Then
there is passage money, \xA315 to \xA320; freight on his goods, say \xA340. If
he lands anywhere in Polynesia--Samoa, Tonga, Cook\x92s Islands, or
elsewhere--he will have Customs duties to pay, house rent, and a
trading licence. And everywhere he will find keen competition and measly
profits, unless he lives like a Chinaman on rice and fish.

\x93In British New Guinea you can dig gold in hand-fuls out of the mangrove
swamps\x94 (O ye gods!) \x93and prospect for any other mineral you may
choose.\x94

Gold-mining in British New Guinea is carried out under the most trying
conditions of toil and hardships, The fitting out of a prospecting-party
of four costs quite \xA3500 to \xA31,000. And only very experienced diggers
tackle mining in the Possession. And his Honour the Administrator will
not let improperly equipped parties into the Possession.

\x93It is the simplest thing in the world\x94 to become a pearl sheller. \x93You
charter a schooner--or even a cutter--if you are a smart seaman and know
the Pacific, use her for general trading... and every now and then go
and look up some one of the innumerable reefs and low atolla... Some are
beds of treasure, full of pearl-shell, that sells at \xA3100 to \xA3200 the
ton,\x94 etc.

All very pretty! Here is the \x93simplicity\x94 of it--taking it at so much
_per month_: Charter of small schooner of one hundred tons, \xA3200 to
\xA3300; wages of captain and crew, \xA340; cost of provisions and wear and
tear of canvas, running gear, etc., \xA360 (diving suits and gear for two
divers, and boat would have to be bought at a cost of some hundreds of
pounds); wages per month of each diver from \xA350 to \xA375, with often
a commission on the shell they raise. Then you can go a-sailing, and
_cherchez_ around for your treasure beds. If you dive in Dutch waters,
the gunboats collar you and your ship; if you go into British waters you
will find that the business is under strict inspection by Commonwealth
officials who keep a properly sharp eye on your doings. If you wish to
go into the French Paumotus you have first to visit Tahiti, and apply
for and pay 2,500 francs for a half-yearly licence to dive. (Most likely
you won\x92t get it) If you try without this licence to buy even a single
pearl from the natives, you will get into trouble--as my ship did in
the \x93seventies,\x94 when the gunboat _Vaudreuil_ swooped down on us, sent
a prize crew aboard, put some of us in irons, and towed us to
Tahiti, where we lay in Papeite harbour for three months, until legal
proceedings were finished and the ship was liberated.

\x93About \xA3150 would be the lowest sum with which such a work\x94 (scooping up
the treasure) \x93could be carried out. This would provide a small schooner
or a cutter from Auckland for a few months with all necessary stores.
She would require two men, competent to navigate, two A.B.\x92s, and a
diver, in order to be run safely and comfortably; and the wages of
these would be an extra cost A couple of experienced yachtsmen could, of
course, manage the affair more cheaply.\x94

Some of these recent nine letters which I received contained some very
interesting facts. One man, an old trader in Polynesia, wrote me as
follows: \x93Some of these poor beggars actually land in Polynesian ports
with a trunk or two of glass beads, penny looking-glasses, twopenny
knives and other weird rubbish, and are aghast to see large stores
stocked with thousands of pounds\x92 worth of goods of all kinds, goods
which are sold to the natives at a very low margin of profit,
for competition is very keen. In the Society Islands the Chinese
storekeepers undersell us whites--they live cheaper.\x94 And \x93in Levuka
and Suva, in Fiji, in Rarotonga and other islands there are scores of
broken-down white men. They cannot be called \x91beachcombers,\x92 for there
is nothing on the beach for them to comb. They live on the charity of
the traders and natives. If they were sailor-men they could perhaps
get fifteen dollars a month on the schooners. Why they come here is a
mystery.... Most of them seem to be clerks or school-teachers. One is a
violin teacher. Another young fellow brought out a typewriting machine;
he is now yardman at a Suva hotel. A third is a married man with two
young children. He is a French polisher, wife a milliner. They came from
Belfast, and landed with eleven pounds! Hotel expenses swallowed all
that in three weeks. Money is being collected to send them to Auckland,\x94
 and so on. There is always so much mischief being done by globe-trotting
tourists and ill-informed and irresponsible novelists who scurry through
the Southern Seas on a liner, and then publish their hasty impressions.
According to them, any one with a modicum of common sense can shake the
South Sea Pagoda Tree and become bloatedly wealthy in a year or so.

Did the \x93Special Commissioner\x94 know that these articles would lead to
much misery and suffering? No, of course not. They were written in good
faith, but without knowledge. For instance, the wild statement about
looking up \x93some one of the innumerable reefs and low atolls... beds
of treasure, full of pearl-shell that sells at \xA3100 to \xA3200 the ton,\x94
 etc.--there is not one single reef or atoll either in the North or South
Pacific that has not been carefully prospected for pearl-shell during
the past thirty-five years.

Then as to gold-mining in British New Guinea, \x93where you can dig gold in
handfuls out of the mangrove swamps\x94.

Diggers who go to New Guinea have to go through the formality of first
paying their passages to that country from Australia. Then, on arrival,
they have to arrange the important matter of engaging native carriers
to take their outfit to the Mambar\xE9 River gold-fields--a tedious and
expensive item. And only experienced men of sterling physique can stand
the awful labour and hardships of gold-mining in the Possession. Deadly
malarial fever adds to the diggers\x92 hard lot in New Guinea, and the
natives, when not savage and treacherous, are as unreliable and as lazy
as a Spanish priest.

In conclusion, I can assure my readers that there is no prospect for any
man of limited means to make money in the South Seas as a trader. Any
assertions to the contrary have no basis of fact in them. In cotton and
coco-nut planting there are good openings for men of the right stamp; in
the second industry, however, one has to wait six years before his trees
are in full bearing.



CHAPTER XV ~ THE STORY OF TOKOLM\xC9

Early one morning some native hunters came on board our vessel and asked
me to come with them to the mountain forest of the island of Ponap\xE9 in
quest of wild boar. Glad to escape from the ship, which lay in a small
land-locked harbour on the south-eastern side of the island, I quickly
put together my gear, stepped into one of the long red-painted canoes
alongside, and pushed off with my companions--men whom I had known for
some years and who always looked to me to join them in at least one
of their hunting trips whenever our brig visited their district on a
trading cruise. Half an hour\x92s paddling across the still waters of the
harbour brought us to a narrow creek, lined on each side with dense
mangroves. Following its upward course for the third of a mile, we came
to and landed at a point of high land, where the-dull and monotonous
mangroves gave place to giant cedar trees and lofty palms. Here were two
or three small native huts, used by the hunters as a rendezvous. Early
as it was, some of their women-folk had arrived from the village, and
cooked and made ready a meal of baked fish and chickens. Then after the
inevitable smoke and discussion as to the route to be taken, and telling
the women to expect us back at nightfall, we shouldered our rifles and
hunting spears, and started off in single file along a winding track
that followed the turnings of the now clear and brawling little stream.
At first we experienced considerable trouble in ridding ourselves of
over a dozen mongrel curs; they had followed the men from the village
(two miles distant) and the women had fastened all of them in, in one of
the huts, but the brutes had torn a hole through the cane-work side of
the hut and came after us in full cry. Kicking and pelting them with
sticks had no effect--they merely yelped and snarled and darted off
into the undergrowth, only to reappear somewhere ahead of us. Finally my
companions became so exasperated that, forgetting they were newly-made
converts to Christianity, they burst out into torrents of abuse,
invoking all the old heathen gods to smite the dogs individually and
collectively, and not let them spoil our sport. This proving of no
effect, an exasperated and stalwart young native named N\xE2, who was the
owner of one of the most ugly and persistent of the animals, asked me to
lend him my Winchester, and, waiting for a favourable chance, shot the
brute dead. In an instant the rest of the pack vanished without a sound,
and we saw no more of them till we returned to the huts in the evening.

These natives (seven in all) were, with the exception of a man of fifty
years of age, all young men, and fine types of the Micronesian. Although
much slighter in build than the average Polynesian of the south-eastern
islands of the Pacific, they were extremely muscular and sinewy, and as
active and fleet of foot as wild goats. Their skins, where not tanned
a darker hue by the sun, were of a light reddish-brown, and the blue
tatooing on their bodies showed out very clearly; most of them had a
very Semitic and regular cast of features, and their straight black hair
and fine white teeth imparted a very pleasing appearance. Unlike some of
the natives of the Micronesian Archipelago on the islands farther to the
westward they dislike the disgusting practice of chewing the betel-nut,
and in general may be regarded as a very cleanly and highly intelligent
race of people. Somewhat suspicious, if not sullen, with the European
stranger on first acquaintance, they do not display that spirit of
hospitality and courtesy that seems to be inherent with the Samoans,
Tahitians and the Marquesans. From the time when their existence was
first made known to the world by the discoveries of the early Spanish
voyagers to the South Seas they have been addicted to warfare, and
the inhabitants of Ponap\xE9 in particular had an evil reputation for the
horrible cruelties the victors inflicted upon the vanquished in battle,
even though the victims were frequently their own kith and kin. When,
less than twenty years ago, Spain reasserted her claims to the Caroline
Islands (of which Ponap\xE9 is the largest and most fertile) and placed
garrisons on several of the islands, the natives of Ponap\xE9 made a savage
and determined resistance, and in one instance wiped out two companies
of troops and their officers. A few years ago, however, the entire
archipelago passed into the hands of Germany--Spain accepting a monetary
compensation for parting with territory that never belonged to her--and
at the present time these once valorous and warlike savages are learning
the ways of civilisation and--as might be expected--rapidly diminishing
in numbers.

*****

After ridding ourselves of the dogs we pressed steadily onward and
upward, till we no longer heard the hum of the surf beating upon the
barrier reef, and then when the sun was almost overhead we emerged from
the deep, darkened aisles of the silent forest into a small cleared
space on the summit of a spur and saw displayed before us one of the
loveliest panoramas in the universe. For of all the many beautiful
island gems which lie upon the blue bosom of the North Pacific, there
is none that exceeds in beauty and fertility the Isle of Ascension, as
Ponap\xE9 is sometimes called--that being the name used by the Spaniards.

Three thousand feet below we could see for many miles the trend of the
coast north and south. Within the wavering line of roaring white surf,
which marked the barrier reef, lay the quiet green waters of the narrow
lagoon encompassing the whole of this part of Ponap\xE9, studded with many
small islands--some rocky and precipitous, some so low-lying and so
thickly palm-clad that they, seemed, with their girdles of shining
beach, to be but floating gardens of verdure, so soft and ephemeral
that even the gentle breath of the rising trade wind at early morn would
cause them to vanish like some desert mirage.

To the southward was the small, land-locked harbour of Ro\xE2n Kiti, whose
gleaming waters were as yet undisturbed by the faintest ripple, and the
two American whaleships and my own vessel which floated on its placid
bosom, lay so still and quiet, that one could have thought them to be
abandoned by their crews were it not that one of the whalers began to
loose and dry sails, for it had rained heavily during the night. These
two ships were from New Bedford, and they had put into the little
harbour to wood and water, and give their sea-worn crews a fortnight\x92s
rest ere they sailed northward away from the bright isles of the Pacific
to the cold, wintry seas of the Siberian coast and the Kurile Islands,
where they would cruise for \x93bowhead\x94 whales, before returning home to
America.

Here, because the White Man both felt and looked tired after the long
climb, and because the Brown Men wanted to make a drink of green kava,
we decided to rest for an hour or two--some of the men suggesting that
we should not return till the following day. Food we had brought with
us, and everywhere on the tops of the mountains water was to be found
in small rocky pools. So whilst one of the men cut up a rugged root of
green kava and began to pound it with a smooth stone, the White Man,
well content, laid down his gun, sat upon a boulder of stone and looked
around him. I was pleased at the view of sea and verdant shore
far below, and pleased too at the prospect of some good sport; for
everywhere, on our way up to the mountains, we had seen the tracks
of many a wild pig, and here, on the summit of this spur, could rest
awhile, before descending into a deep valley on the eastern side of
the island, where we knew we would find the wild pigs feeding along the
banks of a mountain stream which debouched into Ro\xE2n Kiti harbour, four
miles away.

\x93How is this place named, and how came it to be clear of the forest
trees?\x94 I asked one of my native friends, a handsome young man, about
thirty years of age, whose naked, smooth, and red-brown skin, from neck
to waist, showed by its tatooing that he was of chiefly lineage.

\x93Tokolm\xE9 it is called,\x94 he replied. \x93It was once a place of great
strength; a fortress was made here in the mountains, in the olden
time--in the old days, long before white men came to Ponap\xE9. See, all
around us, half-buried in the ground, are some of the blocks of stone
which were carried up from the face of the mountain which overlooks
Metalanien \x93--he pointed to several huge basaltic prisms lying
near--\x93these stones were the lower course of the fort; the upper part
was of wood, great forest trees, cut down and squared into lengths of
two fathoms. And it is because of the cutting down of these trees, which
were very old and took many hundred years to grow, that the place
where we now sit, and all around us, is so clear. For the blood of
many hundreds of men have sunk into it, and because it was the blood of
innocent people, there be now nothing that will grow upon it.\x94

The place was certainly quite bare of trees, though encompassed by the
forest on all sides lower down. One reason for this may have been that
in addition to the large basaltic prisms, the ground was thickly covered
with a layer of smaller and broken stones to which time and the action
of the weather had given a comparatively smooth surface.

\x93Tell me of it, Rai,\x94 I said.

\x93Presently, friend, after we have had the drink of kava and eaten some
food. Ah, this green kava of ours is good to drink, not like the weak,
dried root that the women of Samoa chew and mix with much water in a
wooden bowl. What goodness can there be in that? Here, we take the root
fresh from the soil when it is full of juice, beat it to a pulp and add
but little water.\x94

\x93It is good, Rai,\x94 I admitted, \x93but give me only a little. It is too
strong for me and a full bowl would cause me to stagger and fall.\x94

He laughed good-naturedly as he handed me a half coco-nut shell
containing a little of the thick greenish-yellow liquid. And then, after
all had drunk in turn, the baskets of cold baked food were opened and
we ate; and then as we lit our pipes and smoked Rai told us the story of
Tokolm\xE9.

\x93In those days, before the white men came here to this country, though
they had been to islands not many days\x92 sail from here by canoe, there
were but two great chiefs of Ponap\xE9--now there are seven--one was Lirou,
who ruled all this part of the land, and who dwelt at Ro\xE2n Kiti with two
thousand people, and the other was Roka, king of all the northern coast
and ruler of many villages. Roka was a great voyager and had sailed as
far to the east as Kusaie, which is two hundred leagues from here, and
his people were proud of him and his great daring and of the slaves that
he brought back with him from Kusaie.{*}

     * Strongs Island.

\x93Here in Tokolm\xE9 lived three hundred and two-score people, who owed
allegiance neither to Lirou nor Roka, for their ancestors had come to
Ponap\xE9 from Yap, an island far to the westward. After many years of
fighting on the coast they made peace with Lirou\x92s father, who gave them
all this piece of country as a free gift, and without tribute, and many
of their young men and women intermarried with ours, for the language
and customs of Yap are akin to those of Ponap\xE9.

\x93Soon after peace was made and Tolan, chief of the strangers, had built
the village and made plantations, he died, and as he left no son, his
daughter Le\xE2 became chieftainess, although she was but fourteen years of
age.

\x93Lirou, who was a haughty, overbearing young man, sent presents, and
asked her in marriage, and great was his anger when she refused, saying
that she had no desire to leave her people now that her father was dead.

\x93\x91See,\x92 he said to his father, \x91see the insult put upon thee by these
proud ones of Yap--these dog-eating strangers who drifted to our land
as a log drifts upon the ocean. Thou hast given them fair lands with
running water, and great forest trees, and this girl refuses to marry
me. Am I as nothing that I should be so treated? Shall I, Lirou, be
laughed at? Am I a boy or a grown man?\x92

\x93The old chief, who desired peace, sought in vain to soothe him.
\x91Wait for another year,\x92 he said, \x91and it may be that she will be of a
different mind. And already thou hast two wives--why seek another?\x92

\x93\x91Because it is my will,\x92 replied Lirou fiercely, and he went away,
nursing his wrath.

\x93One day a party of Roka\x92s young men and women went in several canoes
to the group of small islands near the mainland called P\xE2kin to catch
turtle; whilst the men were away out on the reef at night with their
turtle nets a number of Lirou\x92s men came to the huts where the women
were and watched them cooking food to give to their husbands on their
return. Rain was falling heavily, and Lirou\x92s men came into the houses,
unasked, and sat down and then began to jest with the women somewhat
rudely. This made them somewhat afraid, for they were all married, and
to jest with the wife of another man is looked upon as an evil thing.
But their husbands being a league away the women could do nothing and
went on with their cooking in silence. Presently, Lirou\x92s men who had
brought with them some gourds of the grog called _rarait_, which is made
from sugar-cane, began to drink it and pressed the women to do so also.
When they refused to do so, the men became still more rude and bade the
women serve them with some of the food they had prepared. This was a
great insult, but being in fear, they obeyed. Then, as the grog made
them bolder, some of the men laid hands on the women and there was a
great outcry and struggle, and a young woman named Sipi-nah fell or was
thrown against a great burning log, and her face so badly burned that
she cried out in agony and ran outside, followed by all the other women.
They ran along the beach in the pouring rain till they were abreast
of the place where their husbands were fishing and called to them to
return. When the fishermen saw what had befallen Sipi-nah they were
filled with rage, for she was a blood-relation of Roka\x92s, and hastening
back to the houses they rushed in upon Lirou\x92s people, slew three of
them, put their heads in baskets and brought them to Roka.

\x93From this thing came a long war which was called \x91the war of the face
of Sipi-nah,\x92 and a great battle was fought in canoes on the lagoon.
Lirou\x92s father with many hundreds of his people were slain, and the rest
fled to Ro\xE2n Kiti pursued by King Roka, who burnt the town. Then Lirou
(who, now that his father was killed, was chief) sued for peace, and
promised Roka a yearly tribute of three thousand plates of turtle shell,
and five new canoes. So Roka, being satisfied, sailed away, and there
was peace. Had he so desired it he could have utterly swept away all
Lirou\x92s people and burned their villages and destroyed every one of
their plantations, but although he was a great fighting man he was not
cruel. Yet he said to Sipi-nah, after peace was made: \x91I pray thee, come
near me no more; for although I have revenged myself upon those who have
ill-used and insulted thee and me, my hand will again incline to the
spear if I look upon thy scarred face again. And I want no more wars.\x92

\x93The son of Lirou (who now took his father\x92s name) and his people began,
with heavy hearts, to rebuild the town. After the council house was
finished, Lirou told them to cease work and called together his head men
and spoke.

\x93\x91Why should we labour to build more houses here?\x92 he said. \x91See, this
is my mind. Only for one year shall I pay this heavy tribute to Roka
Then shall I defy him.\x92

\x93The head men were silent.

\x93Lirou laughed. \x91Have no fear. I am no boaster. But we cannot fight him
here in Ro\xE2n Kiti, which is open to the sea, and never can we make it
a strong fort, for here we have no _falat_,{*} nor yet any great forest
trees. But at Tokolm\xE9 are many thousands of the great stones and mighty
trees in plenty. Ah, my father was a foolish man to give such a place to
people who fought against us. Are we fools, to build here another weak
town, and let Roka bear the more heavily upon us? Answer me!\x92

     * \x93Falat\x94 is the natives\x92 name for the huge prisms of basalt
     with which the mysterious and Cyclopean walls, canals,
     vaults, and forts are constructed on the island of Ponap\xE9.

\x93\x91What wouldst thou have, O chief,\x92 asked one of the head men.

\x93\x91I would have Tokolm\xE9. It is mine inheritance. There can we make a
strong fort, and from there shall we have entrance to the sea by the
river. Are we to let these dogs from Yap deny us?\x92

\x93\x91Let us ask them to give us, as an act of friendship, all the trees,
and all the _felat_ we desire,\x92 said one of the head men.

\x93Lirou laughed scornfully. \x91And we to toil for years in carrying the
trees and stones from Tokolm\xE9, a league away. Bah! Let us fall upon them
as they sleep--and spare no one.\x92

\x93\x91Nay, nay,\x92 said a sub-chief, named Kol, who had taken one of the Yap
girls to wife, \x91that is an evil thought, and foul treachery. We be at
peace with them. I, for one, will have no part in such wickedness.\x92 And
others said the same, but some were with Lirou.

\x93Then, after many angry words had been spoken--some for fair dealing,
and some for murder--Lirou said to the chief Kol and two others: \x91Go to
the girl Le\xE2 and her head men with presents, and say this: We of Ro\xE2n
Kiti are like to be hard pressed by Roka when the time comes for the
payment of our tribute. If we yield it not, then are we all dead men.
So give back to us Tokolm\xE9, and take from us Ro\xE2n Kiti, where ye may for
ever dwell in peace, for Roka hath no ill-will against ye.\x92

\x93So Kol and two other chiefs, with many slaves bearing presents, went to
Tokolm\xE9. But before they set out, Kol sent secretly a messenger to Le\xE2,
with these words: \x91Though I shall presently come to thee with fair
words from Lirou, I bid thee and all thy people take heed, and beware
of what thou doest; and keep good watch by night, for Lirou hath an evil
mind.\x92

\x93This message was given to Lea, and her head men rewarded the messenger,
and then held council together, and told Lea what answer she should
give.

\x93This was the answer that she gave to Kol, speaking smilingly, and yet
with dignity:--

\x93\x91Say to the chief Lirou that I thank him for the rich presents he hath
sent me, and that I would that I could yield to his wish, and give unto
him this tract of country that his father gave to mine--so that he might
build a strong place of refuge against the King Roka But it cannot be,
for we, too, fear Roka. And we are but a few, and some day it might
happen that he would fall upon us, and sweep us away as a dead leaf
is swept from the branch of a young tree by the strong breath of the
storm.\x92

\x93So Kol returned to Lirou, and gave him the answer of Le\xE2, and then
Lirou and those of his head men who meant ill to Le\xE2 and her people, met
together in secret, and plotted their destruction.

\x93And again Kol, who loved the Yap girl he had married, sent a message
to Le\xE2, warning her to beware of treachery. And then it was that the Yap
people began to build a strong fort, and at night kept a good watch.

\x93Then Lirou again sent messengers asking that Le\xE2 would let him cut down
a score of great trees, and Le\xE2 sent answer to him: \x91Thou art welcome.
Cut down one score--or ten score. I give them freely.\x92 This did she for
the sake of peace and good-will, though she and her people knew that
Lirou meant harm. But whilst a hundred of Lirou\x92s men were cutting
the trees the Yap people worked at their fort from dawn till dark, and
Lirou\x92s heart was black with rage, for these men of Yap were cunning
fort builders, and he saw that, when it was finished, it could never be
taken by assault. But he and his chiefs continued to speak fair words,
and send presents to Le\xE2 and her people, and she sent back presents in
return. Then again Lirou besought her to become his wife, saying that
such an alliance would strengthen the friendship between his people and
hers; but Le\xE2 again refused him, though with pleasant words, and Lirou
said with a smooth face: \x91Forgive me. I shall pester thee no more, for I
see that thou dost not care for me.\x92

\x93When two months had passed two score of great trees had been felled and
cut into lengths of five fathoms each, and then squared. These were to
be the main timbers of the outer wall of Lirou\x92s fort--so he said. But
he did not mean to have them carried away, for now he and his chiefs had
completed their plans to destroy the people of Yap, and this cutting of
the trees was but a subterfuge, designed to throw Le\xE2 and her advisers
off their guard.

\x93One day Lirou and his chiefs, dressed in very gay attire, came into
Tokolm\xE9, each carrying in his hand a tame ring-dove which is a token of
peace and amity, and desired speech of Le\xE2. She came forth, and ordered
fine mats, trimmed with scarlet parrots\x92 feathers, to be spread for them
upon the ground and received them as honoured guests.

\x93\x91We come,\x92 said Lirou, lifting her hand to his forehead, \x91to beg
thee and all thy people to come to a great feast that will be ready
to-morrow, to celebrate the carrying away of the wood thou hast so
generously given unto me.\x92

\x93\x91It is well,\x92 said Le\xE2; \x91I thank thee. We shall come.\x92

\x93Little did Le\xE2 and her people know that during the night, as it rained
heavily, some of Lirou\x92s warriors had hidden clubs and spears and axes
of stone near where the logs lay and where the feast was to be given.
They were hidden under a great heap of chips and shavings that came from
the fallen trees.

\x93At dawn on the day of the feast, three hundred of Lirou\x92s men, all
dressed very gaily, marched past Tokolm\xE9, carrying no arms, but bearing
baskets of food. They were going, they said, with presents to King Roka
to tell him that Lirou would hold faithfully to his promise of tribute.

\x93\x91But why,\x92 asked the men of Yap, \x91do ye go to-day--which is the day of
the feast?\x92

\x93\x91Because the heart of Lirou is glad, and he desires peace with all
men--even Roka. And whilst he and those of our people who remain feast
with ye men of Yap, and make merriment, we, the tribute messengers, go
unto Roka with words of goodwill.\x92

\x93Now these words were lies, for when the three hundred men had marched
a quarter of a league past Tokolm\xE9, they halted at a place in the forest
where they had arms concealed. Then they waited for a certain signal
from Lirou, who had said:--

\x93\x91When thou hearest the sound of a conch shell at the beginning of the
feast, march quickly back and form a circle around us and the people of
Yap, but let not one of ye be seen. Then when there comes a second blast
rush in, and see that no one escapes. Spare no one but the girl Lea.\x92

\x93When the sun was a little high Lirou and all his people--men, women and
children--came and made ready the feast On each of the squared logs was
spread out baked hogs, fowls, pigeons, turtle and fish, and all manner
of fruits in abundance, and then also there were placed in the centre of
the clearing twenty stone mortars for making kava.

\x93When all was ready, Le\xE2 and her people were bidden to come, and they
all came out of the fort, dressed very gaily and singing as is customary
for guests to do. And Lirou stepped out from among his people and took
Le\xE2 by the hand and seated her on a fine mat in the place of honour, and
as she sat with Lirou beside her, a man blew a loud, long blast upon a
conch shell and the feast began.\x94

Rai\x92s story had interested me keenly, but I was now guilty of a breach
of native etiquette--I had to interrupt him to ask how it was that the
man Kol and others who were friendly to the Yap people did not give them
a final warning of the intended massacre.

\x93Ah, I forgot to tell thee that Lirou was as cunning as he was cruel,
and ten days before the giving of the feast he had sent away Kol and
some others whom he knew to be well disposed to the people of Yap. He
sent them to the islands of Pakin--ten leagues from Ponap\xE9, and desired
them to catch turtle for him. But with them he sent a trusty man, whom
he took into his confidence, and said, \x91Tell Rairik, Chief of Pakin, to
make some pretext, and prevent Kol from returning to Ponap\xE9 for a full
moon. And say also that if he yields not to my wish I shall destroy him
and his people.\x92\x94

\x93Ah,\x94 I said, \x93Lirou was a Napoleon.\x94

\x93Who was he?\x94

\x93Oh, a great Franki chief, who was as lying and as treacherous and cruel
and merciless as Lirou. Some day I will tell thee of him. Now, about the
feast.\x94

\x93Ah, the feast After a little while, Lirou, whilst the people ate, said
softly to Le\xE2, \x91Wilt thou not honour me and be my wife? I promise thee
that I shall send away my other wives, and thou alone shalt rule my
house and me.\x92

\x93Le\xE2 was displeased, and her eyes flashed with anger as she drew away
from him, and then Lirou seized her by her wrist, and threw up his left
hand.

\x93A long, loud blast sounded from the conch, and then Lirou\x92s men, who
were feasting, sprang to the great heap of chips, and seized their
weapons. And then began a cruel slaughter--for what could three hundred
unarmed people do against so many! But yet some of the men of Yap fought
most bravely, and tearing clubs or short stabbing spears from their
treacherous enemies, they killed over two score of Lirou\x92s people.

\x93As Le\xE2 beheld the murdering of her kith and kin, she cried piteously to
Lirou to at least spare the women and children, but he laughed and bade
her be silent Some of the women and children tried to escape to the
fort, but they were met by the men who had been in ambush, and slain
ruthlessly.

\x93When all was over, the bodies were taken to a high cliff, and cast down
into the valley below. Then Lirou and his men entered the fort, and made
great rejoicing over their victory.

\x93Le\xE2 sat on a mat with her face in her hands, dumb with grief, and Lirou
bade her go to her sleeping-place, telling her to rest, and that he
would have speech with her later on when he was in the mood. She obeyed,
and when she was unobserved she picked up a short, broad-bladed dagger
of _talit_ (obsidian) and hid it in her girdle, and then lay down
and pretended to sleep. But through the cane lattice-work of her
sleeping-place she watched Lirou.

\x93After Lirou had viewed the fort outside and inside, he sent a man to
Le\xE2, bidding her come to him.

\x93She rose and came slowly to him, with her head bent, and stood before
him. Then suddenly she sprang at him, and thrust the dagger into his
heart. He fell and died quickly.

\x93Then Le\xE2 leapt over a part of the stone wall where it was low, and ran
towards the river, pursued by some of Lirou\x92s mea But she was fleet of
foot, crossed the river, and escaped into the jungle and rested awhile.
Then she passed out of the jungle into the rough mountain country, and
that night she reached King Roka\x92s town.

\x93Roka made her very welcome, and was filled with anger when she told her
story.

\x93\x91I will quickly punish these cruel murderers,\x92 he said; \x91as for thee,
Le\xE2, make this thy home and dwell with us.\x92

\x93Roka gathered together his fighting men. Half he sent to Ro\xE2n Kiti
by water, and half he himself led across the mountains. They fell upon
Lirou\x92s people at night, and slew nearly half of the men, and drove all
the rest into the mountains, where they remained for many months, broken
and hunted men.

\x93That is the story of Tokolm\xE9.\x94



CHAPTER XVI ~ \x93LANO-TԔ

A white rain squall came crashing through the mountain forest, and
then went humming northward across the quiet lake, down over the wooded
littoral and far out to sea Silence once more, and then a mountain cock,
who had scorned the sweeping rain, uttered his shrill, cackling, and
defiant crow, as he shook the water from his black and golden back and
long snaky neck, and savage, fierce-eyed head.

Between two wide-flanking buttresses of a mighty _tamana_ tree I had
taken shelter, and was comfortably seated on the thick carpet of soft
dry leaves, when I heard my name called, and looking up, I saw, a few
yards away, the grave face of an elderly Samoan, named M\xE2risi (Maurice).
We were old acquaintances.

\x93Talofa, M\xE2risi. What doest thou up here at Lano-to?\x94 I said, as I shook
hands and offered him my pipe for a draw.

\x93I and my nephew Mana-ese and his wife have come here to trap pigeons.
For three days we have been here. Our little hut is close by. Wilt come
and rest, and eat?\x94

\x93Aye, indeed, for I am tired. And this Lake of Lano-to is a fine place
whereat to rest.\x94

M\xE2risi nodded. \x93That is true. Nowhere in all Samoa, except from the top
of the dead fire mountain in Savai\x92i, can one see so far and so much
that is good to look upon. Come, friend.\x94

I had shot some pigeons, which M\xE2risi took from me, and began to pluck
as he led the way along a narrow path that wound round the edge of the
crater, which held the lake in its rugged but verdure-clad bosom. In a
few minutes we came to an open-sided hut, with a thatched roof. It stood
on the verge of a little tree-clad bluff, overlooking the lake, two
hundred feet below. Seated upon some of the coarse mats of coco-nut leaf
called _tapa\x92au_ was a fine, stalwart young Samoan engaged in feeding
some wild pigeons in a large wicker-work cage. He greeted me in the
usual hospitable native manner, and taking some fine mats from one of
the house beams, his uncle and I seated ourselves, whilst he went to
seek his wife, to bid her make ready an _umu_ (earth oven). Whilst he
was away, my host and I plucked the pigeons, and also a fat wild duck
which M\xE2risi had shot in the lake that morning. In half an hour the
young couple returned, the woman carrying a basket of taro, and the
man a bunch of cooking bananas. Very quickly the oven of hot stones was
ready, and the game, taro and bananas covered up with leaves.

I had crossed to Lano-t\xF4 from the village of Safata on the south side
of Upolu and was on my way to Apia The previous night I had slept in the
bush on the summit of the range. M\xE2risi gravely told me that I had been
foolish--the mountain forest was full of ghosts, etc.

M\xE2risi himself lived in Apia, and he gave me two weeks\x92 local gossip. He
and his nephew and niece had come to remain at the lake for a few
days, for they had a commission to catch and tame ten pigeons for some
district chief, whose daughter was about to be married.

We had a delightful meal, followed by a bowl of kava (mixed with water
from the lake), and as I was not pressed for time I accepted my host\x92s
invitation to remain for the night, and part of the following day.

This was my fourth or fifth visit to this beautiful mountain lake of
Lano-to (_i.e._, the Deep Lake), and the oftener I came the more its
beauty grew upon me. Alas! its sweet solitude is now disturbed by the
cheap Cockney and Yankee tourist globe-trotter who come there in the
American excursion steamers. In the olden days only natives frequented
the spot--very rarely was a white man seen. To reach it from Apia takes
about five hours on foot, but there is now a regular road on which one
can travel two-thirds of the way on horseback.

The surface of the water, which is a little over two hundred feet
from the rugged rim of the crater, is according to Captain Zemsch,
two thousand three hundred feet above the sea, the distance across the
crater is nearly one thousand two hundred yards. The water is
always cold, but not too cold to bathe in, and during the rainy
season--November to March--is frequented by hundreds of wild duck. All
the forest about teems with pigeons, which love the vicinity of Lano-to,
on account of the numbers of _masa\x92oi_ trees there, on the rich fruit of
which they feed, and all day long, from dawn to dark, their deep _croo!_
may be heard mingling with the plaintive cry of the ringdove.

The view from the crater is of matchless beauty--I know of nothing to
equal it, except it be Pago Pago harbour in Tutuila, looking southwards
from the mountain tops. Here at Lano-t\xF4 you can see the coast line east
and west for twenty miles. Westwards looms the purple dome of Savai\x92i,
thirty miles away. Directly beneath you is Apia, though you can see
nothing of it except perhaps some small black spots floating on the
smooth water inside the reef. They are ships at anchor. Six leagues to
the westward the white line of reef trends away from the shore, makes
a sharp turn, and then runs southward. Within this bend the water is
a brilliant green, and resting upon it are two small islands. One is
Manono, a veritable garden, lined with strips of shining beaches and
fringed with cocos. It is the home of the noble families of Samoa, and
most of the past great chiefs are buried there. Beyond is the small but
lofty crater island of Apolima--a place ever impregnable to assault by
natives. Its red, southern face starts steep-to from the sea, the top is
crowned with palms, and on the northern side what was once the crater is
now a romantic bay, with an opening through the reef, and a tiny,
happy little village nestling under the swaying palms. \x91Tis one of the
sweetest spots in all the wide Pacific. And, thank Heaven, it has but
seldom been defiled by the globe-trotter. The passage is difficult
even for a canoe. One English lady, however (the Countess of Jersey), I
believe once visited it.

Under the myriad stars, set in a sky of deepest blue, M\xE2risi and I lie
outside the huts upon our sleeping mats, and talk of the old Samoan
days, till it is far into the quiet, voiceless night.

At dawn we are called inside by the woman, who chides us for sleeping in
the dew.

\x93Listen,\x94 says M\xE2risi, raising his hand.

It is the faint, musical gabble of the wild ducks, as they swim across
the lake.

\x93What now?\x94 asks the woman, as her husband looks to his gun. \x93Hast no
patience to sit and smoke till I make an oven and get thee food? The
_pato_ (ducks) can wait And first feed the pigeons--thou lazy fellow.\x94



CHAPTER XVII ~ \x93OMBRE CHEVALIER\x94

Once, after many years\x92 wanderings in the North and South Pacific as
shore trader, supercargo and \x93recruiter\x94 in the Kanaka labour trade, I
became home-sick and returned to my native Australia, with a vague idea
of settling down. I began the \x93settling down\x94 by going to some newly
opened gold-fields in North Queensland, wandering about from the
Charters Towers \x93rush\x94 to the Palmer River and Hodgkinson River rushes.
The party of diggers I joined were good sterling fellows, and although
we did not load ourselves with nuggets and gold dust, we did fairly well
at times, especially in the far north of the colony where most of the
alluvial gold-fields were rich, and new-comers especially had no trouble
in getting on to a good show. I was the youngest of the party, and
consequently the most inexperienced, but my mates good-naturedly
overlooked my shortcomings as a prospector and digger, especially as I
had constituted myself the \x93tucker\x94 provider when our usual rations of
salt beef ran out. I had brought with me a Winchester rifle, a shot gun
and plenty of ammunition for both, and plenty of fishing tackle. So, at
such times, instead of working at the claim, I would take my rifle or
gun or fishing lines and sally forth at early dawn, and would generally
succeed in bringing back something to the camp to serve instead of beef.
In the summer months game, such as it was, was fairly plentiful, and
nearly all the rivers of North Queensland abound in fish.

In the open country we sometimes shot more plain turkeys than we could
eat. When on horseback one could approach within a few yards of a bird
before it would take to flight, but on foot it was difficult to get
within range of one, unless a rifle was used. In the rainy season all
the water holes and lagoons literally teemed with black duck, wood-duck,
the black and white Burdekin duck, teal, spur-winged plover, herons
and other birds, and a single shot would account for a dozen. My mates,
however, like all diggers, believed in and wanted beef--mutton we
scarcely ever tasted, except when near a township where there was a
butcher, for sheep do not thrive in that part of the colony and are
generally brought over in mobs from the Peak Downs District or Southern
Queensland.

Our party at first numbered four, but at Townsville (Cleveland Bay) one
of our number left us to return to New Zealand on account of the death
of his father. And we were a very happy party, and although at times
I wearied of the bush and longed for a sight of the sea again, the
gold-fever had taken possession of me entirely and I was content.

Once a party of three of us were prospecting in the vicinity of Scarr\x92s
(or Carr\x92s) Creek, a tributary of the Upper Burdekin River. It was in
June, and the nights were very cold, and so we were pleased to come
across a well-sheltered little pocket, a few hundred yards from the
creek, which at this part of its course ran very swiftly between high,
broken walls of granite. Timber was abundant, and as we intended to
thoroughly prospect the creek up to its head, we decided to camp at
the pocket for two or three weeks, and put up a bark hut, instead of
shivering at night under a tent without a fire. The first day we spent
in stripping bark, piled it up, and then weighted it down heavily with
logs. During the next few days, whilst my mates were building the hut,
I had to scour the country in search of game, for our supply of meat
had run out, and although there were plenty of cattle running in the
vicinity, we did not care to shoot a beast, although we were pretty sure
that C------, the owner of the nearest cattle station, would cheerfully
have given us permission to do so had we been able to have communicated
with him. But as his station was forty miles away, and all our horses
were in poor condition from overwork, we had to content ourselves with
a chance kangaroo, rock wallaby, and such birds as we could shoot,
which latter were few and far between. The country was very rough, and
although the granite ranges and boulder-covered spurs held plenty of fat
rock wallabies, it was heart-breaking work to get within shot. Still, we
managed to turn in at nights feeling satisfied with our supper, for we
always managed to shoot something, and fortunately had plenty of flour,
tea, sugar, and tobacco, and were very hopeful that we should get on to
\x93something good\x94 by careful prospecting.

On the day that we arrived at the pocket, I went down the steep bank of
the creek to get water, and was highly pleased to see that it contained
fish. At the foot of a waterfall there was a deep pool, and in it I saw
numbers of fish, very like grayling, in fact some Queenslanders call
them grayling. Hurrying back to the camp with the water, I got out my
fishing tackle (last used in the Burdekin River for bream), and then
arose the question of bait. Taking my gun I was starting off to look for
a bird of some sort, when one of my mates told me that a bit of wallaby
was as good as anything, and cut me off a piece from the ham of one I
had shot the previous day. The flesh was of a very dark red hue, and
looked right enough, and as I had often caught fish in both the Upper
and Lower Burdekin with raw beef, I was very hopeful of getting a nice
change of diet for our supper.

I was not disappointed, for the fish literally jumped at the bait, and
I had a delightful half-hour, catching enough in that time to provide
us with breakfast as well as supper. None of my catch were over half
a pound, many not half that weight, but hungry men are not particular
about the size of fish. My mates were pleased enough, and whilst we were
enjoying our supper before a blazing fire--for night was coming on--we
heard a loud coo-e-e from down the creek, and presently C------, the
owner of the cattle station, and two of his stockmen with a black boy,
rode up and joined us. They had come to muster cattle in the ranges
at the head of the creek, and had come to our \x93pocket\x94 to camp for the
night. C------ told us that we need never have hesitated about killing
a beast. \x93It is to my interest to give prospecting parties all the beef
they want,\x94 he said; \x93a payable gold-field about here would suit me very
well--the more diggers that come, the more cattle I can sell, instead of
sending them to Charters Towers and Townsville. So, when you run short
of meat, knock over a beast. I won\x92t grumble. I\x92ll round up the first
mob we come across to-morrow, and get you one and bring it here for you
to kill, as your horses are knocked up.\x94

The night turned out very cold, and although we were in a sheltered
place, the wind was blowing half a gale, and so keen that we felt it
through our blankets. However it soon died away, and we were just
going comfortably to sleep, when a dingo began to howl near us, and was
quickly answered by another somewhere down the creek. Although there
were but two of them, they howled enough for a whole pack, and the
detestable creatures kept us awake for the greater part of the night.
As there was a cattle camp quite near, in a sandalwood scrub, and the
cattle were very wild, we did not like to alarm them by firing a shot
or two, which would have scared them as well as the dingoes. The latter,
C------ told us, were a great nuisance in this part of the run, would
not take a poisoned bait, and had an unpleasant trick of biting off the
tails of very young calves, especially if the mother was separated with
her calf from a mob of cattle.

At daylight I rose to boil a billy of tea. My feet were icy cold, and
I saw that there had been a black frost in the night I also discovered
that my string of fish for breakfast was gone. I had hung them up to a
low branch not thirty yards from where I had slept. C------\x91s black
boy told me with a grin that the dogs had taken them, and showed me the
tracks of three or four through the frosty grass. _He_ had slept like a
pig all night, and all the dingoes in Australia would not awaken a black
fellow with a full stomach of beef, damper and tea. C------
laughed at my chagrin, and told me that native dogs, when game is
scarce, will catch fish if they are hungry, and can get nothing else.
He had once seen, he told me, two native dogs acting in a very curious
manner in a waterhole on the Etheridge River. There had been a rather
long drought, and for miles the bed of the river was dry, except for
intermittent waterholes. These were all full of fish, many of which had
died, owing to the water in the shallower pools becoming too hot for
them to exist Dismounting, he laid himself down on the bank, and soon
saw that the dogs were catching fish, which they chased to the edge of
the pool, seized them and carried them up on the sand to devour. They
made a full meal; then the pair trotted across the river bed, and lay
down under a Leichhardt tree to sleep it off. The Etheridge and Gilbert
Rivers aboriginals also assured C------ that their own dogs--bred from
dingoes--were very keen on catching fish, and sometimes were badly
wounded in their mouths by the serrated spur or back fin of catfish.
C------ and his party went off after breakfast, and returned in the
afternoon with a small mob of cattle, and my mates, picking out an
eighteen months\x92 old heifer, shot her, and set to work, and we soon
had the animal skinned, cleaned and hung up, ready for cutting up and
salting early on the following morning. We carefully burnt the offal,
hide and head, on account of the dingoes, and finished up a good day\x92s
work by a necessary bathe in the clear, but too cold water of the creek.
We turned in early, tired out, and scarcely had we rolled ourselves in
our blankets when a dismal howl made us \x93say things,\x94 and in half an
hour all the dingoes in North Queensland seemed to have gathered around
the camp to distract us. The noise they made was something diabolical,
coming from both sides of the creek, and from the ranges. In reality
there were not more than five or six at the outside, but any one would
imagine that there were droves of them. Not liking to discharge our guns
on account of C------\x91s mustering, we could only curse our tormentors
throughout the night. On the following evening, however, knowing that
C------ had finished mustering in our vicinity, we hung a leg bone of
the heifer from the branch of a tree on the opposite side of the creek,
where we could see it plainly by daylight from our bank--about sixty
yards distant Again we had a harrowing night, but stood it without
firing a shot, though one brute came within a few yards of our camp
fire, attracted by the smell of the salted meat, but he was off before
any one of us could cover him. However, in the morning we were rewarded.

Creeping to the bank of the creek at daylight we looked across, and saw
three dogs sitting under the leg bone, which was purposely slung out
of reach. We fired together, and the biggest of the three dropped--the
other two vanished like a streak of lightning. The one we killed was
a male and had a good coat--a rather unusual thing for a dingo, as the
skin is often covered with sores. From that time, till we broke up camp,
we were not often troubled by their howling near us--a gun shot would
quickly silence their dismally infernal howls.

During July we got a little gold fifteen miles from the head of the
creek, but not enough to pay us for our time and labour. However, it was
a fine healthy occupation, and our little bark hut in the lonely ranges
was a very comfortable home, especially during wet weather, and on cold
nights. A good many birds came about towards the end of the month, and
we twice rode to the Burdekin and had a couple of days with the bream,
filling our pack bags with fish, which cured well with salt in the dry
air. Although Scarr\x92s creek was full of \x93grayling\x94 they were too small
for salting; but were delicious eating when fried. During our stay we
got enough opossum skins to make a fine eight-feet square rug. Then
early one morning we said good-bye to the pocket, and mounting our
horses set our faces towards Cleveland Bay, where, with many regrets,
I had to part with my mates who were going to try the Gulf country with
other parties of diggers. They tried hard to induce me to go with them,
but letters had come to me from old comrades in Samoa and the Caroline
Islands, tempting me to return. And, of course, they did not tempt in
vain; for to us old hands who have toiled by reef and palm the isles of
the southern seas are for ever calling as the East called to Kipling\x92s
soldier man. But another six months passed before I left North
Queensland and once more found myself sailing out of Sydney Heads on
board one of my old ships and in my old berth as supercargo, though,
alas! with a strange skipper who knew not Joseph, and with whom I and
every one else on board was in constant friction. However, that is
another story.

After bidding my mates farewell I returned to the Charters Towers
district and picked up a new mate--an old and experienced digger who had
found some patches of alluvial gold on the head waters of a tributary
of the Burdekin River and was returning there. My new mate was named
Gilfillan. He was a hardworking, blue-eyed Scotsman and had had many
and strange experiences in all parts of the world--had been one of
the civilian fighters in the Indian Mutiny, fur-seal hunting on the
Pribiloff Islands in an American schooner, and shooting buffaloes for
their hides in the Northern Territory of South Australia, where he had
twice been speared by the blacks.

On reaching the head waters of the creek on which Gilfillan had washed
out nearly a hundred ounces of gold some months previously, we found to
our disgust over fifty diggers in possession of the ground, which they
had practically worked out--some one had discovered Gilfillan\x92s old
workings and the place was at once \x93rushed\x94. My mate took matters very
philosophically--did not even swear--and we decided to make for the Don
River in the Port Denison district, where, it was rumoured, some rich
patches of alluvial gold had just been discovered.

We both had good horses and a pack horse, and as C------\x91s station lay
on our route and I had a standing invitation to pay him a visit (given
to me when he had met our party at Scares Creek), I suggested that we
should go there and spell for a few days. So there we went and C------
made us heartily welcome; and he also told us that the new rush on the
Don River had turned out a \x93rank duffer,\x94 and that we would only be
wearing ourselves and our horse-flesh out by going there. He pressed us
to stay for a week at least, and as we now had no fixed plans for the
future we were glad to do so. He was expecting a party of visitors from
Charters Towers, and as he wanted to give them something additional to
the usual fare of beef and mutton, in the way of fish and game, he asked
us to join him for a day\x92s fishing in the Burdekin River.

The station was right on the bank of the river, but at a spot where
neither game nor fish were at all plentiful; so long before sunrise on
the following morning, under a bright moon and clear sky, we started,
accompanied by a black boy, leading a pack horse, for the junction of
the Kirk River with the Burdekin, where there was excellent fishing, and
where also we were sure of getting teal and wood-duck.

A two hours\x92 easy ride along the grassy, open timbered high banks of the
great river brought us to the junction. The Kirk, when running along its
course, is a wide, sandy-bottomed stream, with here and there deep
rocky pools, and its whole course is fringed with the everlasting and
ever-green sheoaks. We unsaddled in a delightfully picturesque spot,
near the meeting of the waters, and in a few minutes, whilst the billy
was boiling for tea, C------and I were looking to our short bamboo rods
and lines, and our guns. Then, after hobbling out the horses, and eating
a breakfast of cold beef and damper, we started to walk through the
high, dew-soaked grass to a deep, boulder-margined pool in which the
waters of both rivers mingled.

The black boy who was leading when we emerged on the water side of
the fringe of sheoaks, suddenly halted and silently pointed ahead--a
magnificent specimen of the \x93gigantic\x94 crane was stalking sedately
through a shallow pool--his brilliant black and orange plumage and
scarlet legs glistening in the rays of the early sun as he scanned the
sandy bottom for fish. We had no desire to shoot such a noble creature;
and let him take flight in his slow, laboured manner. And, for our
reward, the next moment \x93Peter,\x94 the black boy, brought down two out of
three black duck, which came flying right for his gun from across the
river.

Both rivers had long been low, and although the streams were running
in the centre of the beds of each, there were countless isolated
pools covered with blue-flowered water-lilies, in which teal and other
water-birds were feeding. But for the time we gave them no heed.

From one of the pools we took our bait--small fish the size of
white-bait, with big, staring eyes, and bodies of a transparent pink
with silvery scales. They were easily caught by running one\x92s hand
through the weedy edges, and in ten minutes we had secured a quart-pot
full.

\x93Peter,\x94 who regarded our rods with contempt, was the first to reach
the boulders at the edge of the big pool, which in the centre had a fair
current; at the sides, the water, although deep, was quiet. Squatting
down on a rock, he cast in his baited hand-line, and in ten seconds
he was nonchalantly pulling in a fine two pound bream. He leisurely
unhooked it, dropped it into a small hole in the rocks, and then began
to cut up a pipeful of tobacco, before rebaiting!

The water was literally alive with fish, feeding on the bottom. There
were two kinds of bream--one a rather slow-moving fish, with large, dark
brown scales, a perch-like mouth, and wide tail, and with the sides
and belly a dull white; the other a very active game fellow, of a more
graceful shape, with a small mouth, and very hard, bony gill plates.
These latter fought splendidly, and their mouths being so strong
they would often break the hooks and get away--as our rods were very
primitive, without reels, and only had about twenty feet of line.
Then there were the very handsome and beautifully marked fish, like an
English grayling (some of which I had caught at Scan\x92s Creek); they took
the hook freely. The largest I have ever seen would not weigh more than
three-quarters of a pound, but their lack of size is compensated for by
their extra delicate flavour. (In some of the North Queensland inland
rivers I have seen the aborigines net these fish in hundreds in shallow
pools.) Some bushmen persisted, so Gilfillan told me, in calling these
fish \x93fresh water mullet,\x94 or \x93speckled mullet\x94.

The first species of bream inhabit both clear and muddy water; but the
second I have never seen caught anywhere but in clear or running water,
when the river was low.

But undoubtedly the best eating fresh-water fish in the Burdekin and
other Australian rivers is the cat-fish, or as some people call it, the
Jew-fish. It is scaleless, and almost finless, with a dangerously barbed
dorsal spine, which, if it inflicts a wound on the hand, causes days
of intense suffering. Its flesh is delicate and firm, and with the
exception of the vertebrae, has no long bones. Rarely caught (except
when small) in clear water, it abounds when the water is muddy, and
disturbed through floods, and when a river becomes a \x93banker,\x94 cat-fish
can always be caught where the water has reached its highest. They then
come to feed literally upon the land--that is grass land, then under
flood water. A fish bait they will not take--as a rule--but are fond of
earthworms, frogs, crickets, or locusts, etc.

Another very beautiful but almost useless fish met with in the Upper
Burdekin and its tributaries is the silvery bream, or as it is more
generally called, the \x93bony\x94 bream. They swim about in companies of some
hundreds, and frequent the still water of deep pools, will not take a
bait, and are only seen when the water is clear. Then it is a delightful
sight for any one to lie upon the bank of some ti-tree-fringed creek or
pool, when the sun illumines the water and reveals the bottom, and
watch a school of these fish swimming closely and very slowly together,
passing over submerged logs, roots of trees or rocks, their scales of
pure silver gleaming in the sunlight as they make a simultaneous
side movement. I tried every possible bait for these fish, but never
succeeded in getting a bite, but have netted them frequently. Their
flesh, though delicate, can hardly be eaten, owing to the thousands of
tiny bones which run through it, interlacing in the most extraordinary
manner. The blacks, however \x93make no bones\x94 about devouring them.

By 11 A.M. we had caught all the fish our pack-bags could hold--bream,
alleged grayling, and half a dozen \x93gars\x94--the latter a beautifully
shaped fish like the sea-water garfish, but with a much flatter-sided
body of shining silver with a green back, the tail and fins tipped with
yellow.

We shot but few duck, but on our way home in the afternoon \x93Peter\x94 and
Gilfillan each got a fine plain turkey--shooting from the saddle--and
almost as we reached the station slip-rails \x93Peter,\x94 who had a wonderful
eye, got a third just as it rose out of the long dry grass in the
paddock.

And on the following day, when C------\x91s guests arrived (and after we
had congratulated ourselves upon having plenty for them to eat), they
produced from their buggies eleven turkeys, seven wood-duck, and a
string of \x93squatter\x94 pigeons!

\x93Thought we\x92d better bring you some fresh tucker, old man,\x94 said one of
them to C-----. \x93And we have brought you a case of Tennant\x92s ale.\x94 \x93The
world is very beautiful,\x94 said C------, stroking his grey beard, and
speaking in solemn tones, \x93and this is a thirsty day. Come in, boys.
We\x92ll put the Tennant\x92s in the water-barrels to cool.\x94

*****

The first occasion on which I ever saw and caught one of the beautiful
fish herein described as grayling was on a day many months previous
to our former party camping on Scarr\x92s Creek. We had camped on a creek
running into the Herbert River, near the foot of a range of wild, jagged
and distorted peaks and crags of granite. Then there were several other
parties of prospectors camped near us, and, it being a Sunday, we were
amusing ourselves in various ways. Some had gone shooting, others were
washing clothes or bathing in the creek, and one of my mates (a Scotsman
named Alick Longmuir) came fishing with me. Like Gilfillan, he was a
quiet, somewhat taciturn man. He had been twenty-two years in Australia,
sometimes mining, at others following his profession of surveyor. He
had received his education in France and Germany, and not only spoke
the languages of those countries fluently, but was well-read in their
literature. Consequently we all stood in a certain awe of him as a man
of parts; for besides being a scholar he was a splendid bushman and
rider and had a great reputation as the best wrestler in Queensland.
Even-tempered, good-natured and possessed of a fund of caustic humour,
he was a great favourite with the diggers, and when he sometimes \x93broke
loose\x94 and went on a terrific \x93spree\x94 (his only fault) he made matters
remarkably lively, poured out his hard-earned money like water for
a week or so--then stopped suddenly, pulled himself together in an
extraordinary manner, and went about his work again as usual, with a
face as solemn as that of an owl.

A little distance from the camp we made our way down through rugged,
creeper-covered boulders to the creek, to a fairly open stretch of water
which ran over its rocky bed into a series of small but deep pools. We
baited our lines with small grey grasshoppers, and cast together.

\x93I wonder what we shall get here, Alick,\x94 I began, and then came a tug
and then the sweet, delightful thrill of a game fish making a run. There
is nothing like it in all the world--the joy of it transcends the first
kiss of young lovers.

I landed my fish--a gleaming shaft of mottled grey and silver with
specks of iridescent blue on its head, back and sides, and as I grasped
its quivering form and held it up to view my heart beat fast with
delight.

\x93_Ombre chevalier!_\x94 I murmured to myself.

Vanished the monotony of the Bush and the long, weary rides over the
sun-baked plains and the sound of the pick and shovel on the gravel in
the deep gullies amid the stark, desolate ranges, and I am standing
in the doorway of a peaceful Mission House on a fair island in the far
South Seas--standing with a string of fish in my hand, and before me
dear old P\xE8re Grandseigne with his flowing beard of snowy white and
his kindly blue eyes smiling into mine as he extends his brown sun-burnt
hand.

\x93Ah, my dear young friend! and so thou hast brought me these
fish--_ombres chevaliers_, we call them in France. Are they not
beautiful! What do you call them in England?\x94

\x93I have never been in England, Father; so I cannot tell you. And never
before have I seen fish like these. They are new to me.\x94

\x93Ah, indeed, my son,\x94 and the old Marist smiles as he motions me to a
seat, \x93new to you. So?... Here, on this island, my sainted colleague
Channel, who gave up his life for Christ forty years ago under the
clubs of the savages, fished, as thou hast fished in that same mountain
stream; and his blood has sanctified its waters. For upon its bank, as
he cast his line one eve he was slain by the poor savages to whom he
had come bearing the love of Christ and salvation. After we have supped
to-night, I shall tell thee the story.\x94

And after the Angelus bells had called, and as the cocos swayed and
rustled to the night breeze and the surf beat upon the reef in Sing\xE2vi
Bay, we sat together on the verandah of the quiet Mission House on
the hill above, which the martyred Channel had named \x93Calvary,\x94 and I
listened to the old man\x92s story of his beloved comrade\x92s death.

As Longmuir and I lay on our blankets under the starlit sky of the far
north of Queensland that night, and the horse-bells tinkled and our
mates slept, we talked.

\x93Aye, lad,\x94 he said, sleepily, \x93the auld _padre_ gave them the Breton
name--_ombre chevalier_. In Scotland and England--if ever ye hae the
good luck to go there--ye will hear talk of graylin\x92. Aye, the bonny
graylin\x92... an\x92 the purple heather... an\x92 the cry o\x92 the whaups.... Lad,
ye hae much to see an\x92 hear yet, for all the cruising ye hae done....
Aye, the graylin\x92, an\x92 the white mantle o\x92 the mountain mist... an\x92 the
voices o\x92 the night... Lad, it\x92s just gran\x92.\x94

Sleep, and then again the tinkle of the horse-bells at dawn.



CHAPTER XVIII ~ A RECLUSE OF THE BUSH

The bank of the tidal river was very, very quiet as I walked down to it
through the tall spear grass and sat down upon the smooth, weather-worn
bole of a great blackbutt tree, cast up by the river when in flood long
years agone. Before me the water swirled and eddied and bubbled past on
its way to mingle with the ocean waves, as they were sweeping in across
the wide and shallow bar, two miles away.

The sun had dropped behind the rugged line of purple mountains to the
west, and, as I watched by its after glow five black swans floating
towards me upon the swiftly-flowing water, a footstep sounded near
me, and a man with a gun and a bundle on his shoulder bade me
\x93good-evening,\x94 and then asked me if I had come from Port ------
(a little township five miles away).

Yes, I replied, I had.

\x93Is the steamer in from Sydney?\x94

\x93No. I heard that she is not expected in for a couple of days yet. There
has been bad weather on the coast.\x94

The man uttered an exclamation of annoyance, and laying down his gun,
sat beside me, pulled out and lit his pipe, and gazed meditatively
across the darkening river. He was a tall, bearded fellow, and dressed
in the usual style affected by the timber-getters and other bushmen of
the district Presently he began to talk.

\x93Are you going back to Port ------ to-night, mister?\x94 he asked, civilly.

\x93No,\x94 and I pointed to my gun, bag, and billy can, \x93I have just come
from there. I am waiting here till the tide is low enough for me to
cross to the other side. I am going to the Warra Swamp for a couple of
days\x92 shooting and fishing, and to-night I\x92ll camp over there in the
wild apple scrub,\x94 pointing to a dark line of timber on the opposite
side.

\x93Do you mind my coming with you?\x94

\x93Certainly not--glad of your company. Where are you going?\x94

\x93Well, I was going to Port ------, to sell these platypus skins to the
skipper of the steamer; but I don\x92t want to loaf about the town for a
couple o\x92 days for the sake of getting two pounds five shillings for
fifteen skins. So I\x92ll get back to my humphy. It\x92s four miles the other
side o\x92 Warra.\x94

\x93Then by all means come and camp with me tonight,\x94 I said \x93I\x92ve plenty
of tea and sugar and tucker, and after we get to the apple scrub over
there we\x92ll have supper. Then in the morning we\x92ll make an early start
It is only ten miles from there to Warra Swamp, and I\x92m in no hurry to
get there.\x94

The stranger nodded, and then, seeking out a suitable tree, tied his
bundle of skins to a high branch, so that it should be out of the reach
of dingoes, and said they would be safe enough until his return on
his way to the Port Half an hour later, the tide being low enough, we
crossed the river, and under the bright light of myriad stars made our
way along the spit of sand to the scrub. Here we lit our camp fire under
the trees, boiled our billy of tea, and ate our cold beef and bread.
Then we lay down upon the soft, sweet-smelling carpet of dead leaves,
and yarned for a couple of hours before sleeping.

By the light of the fire I saw that my companion was a man of about
forty years of age, although he looked much older, his long untrimmed
brown beard and un-kept hair being thickly streaked with grey. He was
quiet in manner and speech, and the latter was entirely free from the
Great Australian Adjective. His story, as far as he told it to me, was a
simple one, yet with an element of tragedy in it.

Fifteen years before, he and his brother had taken up a selection on the
Brunswick River, near the Queensland border, and were doing fairly well.
One day they felled a big gum tree to split for fencing rails. As it
crashed towards the ground, it struck a dead limb of another great tree,
which was sent flying towards where the brothers stood; it struck
the elder one on the head, and killed him instantly. There were no
neighbours nearer than thirty miles, so alone the survivor buried his
brother. Then came two months of utter loneliness, and Joyce abandoned
his selection to the bush, selling his few head of cattle and horses
to his nearest neighbour for a small sum, keeping only one horse for
himself. Then for two or three years he worked as a \x93hatter\x94 (i.e.,
single-handed) in various tin-mining districts of the New England
district.

One day during his many solitary prospecting trips, he came across a
long-abandoned selection and house, near the Warra Swamp (I knew the
spot _well_). He took a fancy to the place, and settled down there, and
for many years had lived there all alone, quite content.

Sometimes he would obtain a few weeks\x92 work on the cattle stations in
the district, when mustering and branding was going on, by which he
would earn a few pounds, but he was always glad to get back to his
lonely home again. He had made a little money also, he said, by trapping
platypus, which were plentiful, and sometimes, too, he would prospect
the head waters of the creeks, and get a little fine gold.

\x93I\x92m comfortable enough, you see,\x94 he added; \x93lots to eat and drink,
and putting by a little cash as well. Then I haven\x92t to depend upon the
storekeepers at Port ------ for anything, except powder and shot, flour,
salt, tea and sugar. There\x92s lots of game and fish all about me, and
when I want a bit of fresh beef and some more to salt down, I can get it
without breaking the law, or paying for it.\x94

\x93How is that?\x94 I inquired.

\x93There are any amount of wild cattle running in the ranges--all
clean-skins\x94 (unbranded), \x93and no one claims them. One squatter once
tried to get some of them down into his run in the open country--he
might as well have tried to yard a mob of dingoes.\x94

\x93Then how do you manage to get a beast?\x94

\x93Easy enough. I have an old police rifle, and every three months or so,
when my stock of beef is low, I saddle my old pack moke, and start off
to the ranges. I know all the cattle tracks leading to the camping and
drinking places, and generally manage to kill my beast at or near a
waterhole. Then I cut off the best parts only, and leave the rest for
the hawks and dingoes. I camp there for the night, and get back with my
load of fresh beef the next day. Some I dry-salt, some I put in brine.\x94

Early in the morning we started on our ten miles\x92 tramp through the
coastal scrub, or rather forest Our course led us away from the sea, and
nearly parallel to the river, and I thoroughly enjoyed the walk, and my
companion\x92s interesting talk. He had a wonderful knowledge of the
bush, and of the habits of wild animals and birds, much of which he had
acquired from the aborigines of the Brunswick River district As we
were walking along, I inquired how he managed to get platypus without
shooting them. He hesitated, and half smiled, and I at once apologised,
and said I didn\x92t intend to be inquisitive. He nodded, and said no more;
but he afterwards told me he caught them by netting sections of the
river at night.

After we had made about five miles we came to the first crossing above
the bar. This my acquaintance always used when he visited Port ------
(taking the track along the bank on the other side), for the bar was
only crossable at especially low tides. Here, although the water was
brackish, we saw swarms of \x93block-headed\x94 mullet and grey bream swimming
close in to the sandy bank, and, had we cared to do so, could have
caught a bagful in a few minutes But we pushed on for another two miles,
and on our way shot three \x93bronze wing\x94 pigeons.

We reached the Warra Swamp at noon, and camped for dinner in a shady
\x93bangalow\x94 grove, so as not to disturb the ducks, whose delightful
gabble and piping was plainly audible. We grilled our birds, and made
our tea. Whilst we were having a smoke, a truly magnificent white-headed
fish eagle lit on the top of a dead tree, three hundred yards away--a
splendid shot for a rifle. It remained for some minutes, then rose and
went off seaward. Joyce told me that the bird and its mate were very
familiar to him for a year past, but that he \x93hadn\x92t the heart to take a
shot at them\x94--for which he deserved to be commended.

Presently, seeing me cutting some young supplejack vines, my new
acquaintance asked me their purpose. I told him that I meant to make a
light raft out of dead timber to save me from swimming after any ducks
that I might shoot, and that the supplejack was for lashing. Then, to my
surprise and pleasure, he proposed that I should go on to his \x93humphy,\x94
 and camp there for the night, and he would return to the swamp with me
in the morning, join me in a day\x92s shooting and fishing, and then come
on with me to the township on the following day.

Gladly accepting his offer, two hours\x92 easy walking brought us to
his home--a roughly-built slab shanty with a bark roof, enclosed in a
good-sized paddock, in which his old pack horse, several goats and a
cow and calf were feeding. At the side of the house was a small
but well-tended vegetable garden, in which were also some huge
water-melons--quite ripe, and just the very thing after our fourteen
miles\x92 walk. One-half of the house and roof was covered with scarlet
runner bean plants, all in full bearing, and altogether the exterior of
the place was very pleasing. Before we reached the door two dogs, which
were inside, began a terrific din--they knew their master\x92s step. The
interior of the house--which was of two rooms--was clean and orderly,
the walls of slabs being papered from top to bottom with pictures from
illustrated papers, and the floor was of hardened clay. Two or three
rough chairs, a bench and a table comprised the furniture, and yet the
place had a home-like look.

My host asked me if I could \x93do\x94 with a drink of bottled-beer; I
suggested a slice of water-melon.

\x93Ah, you\x92re right But those outside are too hot. Here\x92s a cool one,\x94 and
going into the other room he produced a monster. It was delicious!

After a bathe in the creek near by, we had a hearty supper, and then sat
outside yarning and smoking till turn-in time.

Soon after a sunrise breakfast, we started for the swamp, taking the
old packhorse with us, my host leaving food and water for the dogs, who
howled disconsolately as we went off.

At the swamp we had a glorious day\x92s sport, although there were
altogether too many black snakes about for my taste. We camped there
that night, and returned to the port next day with a heavy load of black
duck, some \x93whistlers,\x94 and a few brace of pigeons.

I bade farewell to my good-natured host with a feeling of regret Some
years later, on my next visit to Australia, I heard that he had returned
to his boyhood\x92s home--Gippsland in Victoria--and had married and
settled down. He was one of the most contented men I ever met, and a
good sportsman.



CHAPTER XIX ~ TE-BARI, THE OUTLAW

The Island of Upolu, in the Samoan group, averages less than fifteen
miles in width, and it is a delightful experience to cross from Apia, or
any other town on the north, to the south side. The view to be obtained
from the summit of the range that traverses the island from east to
west is incomparably beautiful--I have never seen anything to equal it
anywhere in the Pacific Isles.

A few years after the Germans had begun cotton planting in Samoa, I
brought to Apia ninety native labourers from the Solomon Islands to work
on the big plantation at Mulifanua. I also brought with me something I
would gladly have left behind--the effects of a very severe attack of
malarial fever.

A week or so after I had reached Apia I gave myself a few days\x92 leave,
intending to walk across the island to the town of Siumu, where I had
many native friends, and try and work some of the fever poison out of my
system.

Starting long before sunrise, I was well past Vailima Mountain--the
destined future home of Stevenson--by six o\x92clock. After resting for an
hour at each of the bush villages of Magiagi and Tanumamanono--soon to
be the scene of a cruel massacre in the civil war then raging--I began
the long, gradual ascent from the littoral to the main range, inhaling
deeply of the cool morning air, and listening to the melodious
_croo! croo!_ of the great blue pigeons, and the plaintive cry of
the ringdoves, so well termed manu-tagi (the weeping bird) by the
imaginative Samoans.

Walking but slowly, for I was not strong enough for rapid exercise, I
reached the summit of the first spur, and again spelled, resting upon a
thick carpet of cool, dead leaves. With me was a boy from Tanumamanono
named Suisuega-le-moni (The Seeker after Truth), who carried a basket
containing some cooked food, and fifty cartridges for my gun. \x93Sui,\x94 as
he was called for brevity, was an old acquaintance of mine and one of
the most unmitigated young imps that ever ate _taro_ as handsome \x93as
a picture,\x94 and a most notorious scandalmonger and spy. He was only
thirteen years of age, and was of rebel blood, and, child as he was, he
knew that his head stood very insecurely upon his shoulders, and that
it would be promptly removed therefrom if any of King Malietoa\x92s troops
could catch him spying in _flagrante delicto_. Two years before, he had
attached himself to me, and had made a voyage with me to the Caroline
Islands, during which he had acquired an enormous vocabulary of sailors\x92
bad language. This gave him great local kudos.

Sui was to accompany me to the top of the range, and then return, as
otherwise he would be in hostile territory.

By four o\x92clock in the afternoon we had gained a clear spot on the crest
of the range, from where we had a most glorious view of the south coast
imaginable. Three thousand feet below us were the russet-hued thatched
roofs of the houses of Siumu Village; beyond, the pale green water that
lay between the barrier reef and the mainland, then the long curving
line of the reef itself with its seething surf, and, beyond that again,
the deep, deep blue of the Pacific, sparkling brightly in the westering
sun.

Leaning my gun against one of the many buttresses of a mighty _masa\x92oi_
tree, I was drinking in the beauty of the scene, when we heard the
shrill, cackling scream of a mountain cock, evidently quite near. Giving
the boy my gun, I told him to go and shoot it; then sitting down on the
carpet of leaves, I awaited his return with the bird, half-resolved to
spend the night where I was, for I was very tired and began to feel the
premonitory chills of an attack of ague.

In ten minutes the sound of a gun-shot reverberated through the forest
aisles, and presently I heard Sui returning. He was running, and holding
by its neck one of the biggest mountain cocks I ever saw. As he ran, he
kept glancing back over his shoulder, and when he reached me and threw
down gun and bird, I saw that he was trembling from head to foot.

\x93What is the matter?\x94 I asked; \x93hast seen an _aitu vao_ (evil spirit of
the forest)?\x94

\x93Aye, truly,\x94 he said shudderingly, \x93I have seen a devil indeed, and the
marrow in my bones has gone--I have seen Te-bari, the T\xE2fito."{*}

     * The Samoans term all the natives of the Equatorial Islands
     \x93T\xE2fito\x94.

I sprang to my feet and seized him by the wrist.

\x93Where was he?\x94 I asked.

\x93Quite near me. I had just shot the wild _moa vao_ (mountain cock) and
had picked it up when I heard a voice say in Samoan--but thickly as
foreigners speak: \x91It was a brave shot, boy\x92. Then I looked up and saw
Te-bari. He was standing against the bole of a _masa\x92oi_ tree, leaning
on his rifle. Round his earless head was bound a strip of _ie mumu_ (red
Turkey twill), and as I stood and trembled he laughed, and his great
white teeth gleamed, and my heart died within me, and----\x94

I do not want to disgust my readers, but truth compels me to say that
the boy there and then became violently sick; then he began to sob
with terror, stopping every now and then to glance around at the now
darkening forest aisles of grey-barked, ghostly and moss-covered trees.

\x93Sui,\x94 I said, \x93go back to your home. I have no fear of Te-bari.\x94

In two seconds the boy, who had faced rifle fire time and time again,
fled homewards. Te-bari the outlaw was too much for him.

Personally I had no reason to fear meeting the man. In the first place
I was an Englishman, and Te-bari was known to profess a liking for
Englishmen, though he would eagerly cut the throat of a German or a
Samoan if he could get his brawny hands upon it; in the second place,
although I had never seen the man, I was sure that he would have heard
of me from some of his fellow islanders on the plantations, for during
my three years\x92 \x93recruiting\x94 in the Kingsmill and Gilbert Groups, I have
brought many hundreds of them to Samoa, Fiji and Tahiti.

Something of his story was known to me. He was a native of the great
square-shaped atoll of Maiana, and went to sea in a whaler when he was
quite a lad, and soon rose to be boat-steerer. One day a Portuguese
harpooner struck him in the face and drew blood--a deadly insult to a
Line Islander. Te-bari plunged his knife into the man\x92s heart. He
was ironed, and put in the sail-locker; during the night three of the
Portuguese sprang in upon him and cut off his ears. A few days later
when the ship was at anchor at the Bonin Islands, Te-bari freed himself
of his handcuffs and swam on shore Early on the following morning one
of the boats was getting fresh water. She was in charge of the fourth
mate--a Portuguese black. Suddenly a nude figure leapt among the men,
and clove the officer\x92s head in twain with a tomahawk.

One day Te-bari reappeared among his people at Maiana and took service
with a white trader, who always spoke of him as a quiet, hardworking
young man, but with a dangerous temper when roused by a fancied wrong.
In due time Te-bari took a wife--took her in a very literal sense, by
killing her husband and escaping with her to the neighbouring island of
Taputeauea (Drummond\x92s Island). She was a pretty, graceful creature of
sixteen years of age. Then one day there came along the German labour
brig _Adolphe_ seeking \x93blackbirds\x94 for Samoa, and Te-bari and his
pretty wife with fifty other \x93T\xE2fitos\x94 were landed at one of the
plantations in Upolu.

Young Madame Te-bari was not as good as she ought to have been, and
one day the watchful husband saw one of the German overseers give her a
thick necklace of fine red beads. Te-bari tore them from her neck, and
threw them into the German\x92s face. For this he received a flogging and
was mercilessly kicked into insensibility as well When he recovered he
was transferred to another plantation--minus the naughty Nireeungo, who
became \x93Mrs.\x94 Peter Clausen. A month passed, and it was rumoured \x93on the
beach\x94 that \x93No-Ears,\x94 as Te-bari was called, had escaped and taken to
the bush with a brand-new Snider carbine, and as many cartridges as he
could carry, and Mr. Peter Clausen was advised to look out for himself.
He snorted contemptuously.

Two young Samoan \x93bucks\x94 were sent out to capture Te-bari, and bring him
back, dead or alive, and receive therefor one hundred bright new Chile
dollars. They never returned, and when their bodies were found in a deep
mountain gully, it was known that the earless one was the richer by
a sixteen-shot Winchester with fifty cartridges, and a Swiss Vetterli
rifle, together with some twist tobacco, and the two long _nifa oti_
or \x93death knives,\x94 with which these valorous, but misguided young men
intended to remove the earless head of the \x93T\xE2fito pig\x94 from his brawny,
muscular shoulders.

Te-bari made his way, encumbered as he was with his armoury, along the
crest of the mountain range, till he was within striking distance of his
enemy, Clausen, and the alleged Frau Clausen--_n\xE9e_ Nireeungo. He hid on
the outskirts of the plantation, and soon got in touch with some of his
former comrades. They gave him food, and much useful information.

One night, during heavy rain, when every one was asleep on the
plantation, Te-bari entered the overseer\x92s house by the window. A lamp
was burning, and by its light he saw his faithless spouse sleeping
alone. Clausen--lucky Clausen--had been sent into Apia an hour before to
get some medicine for one of the manager\x92s children. Te-bari was keenly
disappointed. He would only have half of his revenge. He crept up to
the sleeper, and made one swift blow with the heavy _nifa oti_ Then he
became very busy for a few minutes, and a few hours later was back in
the mountains, smoking Clausen\x92s tobacco, and drinking some of Clausen\x92s
corn schnapps.

When Clausen rode up to his house at three o\x92clock in the morning, he
found the lamp was burning brightly. Nireeungo was lying on the bed,
covered over with a quilt of navy blue. He called to her, but she made
no answer, and Clausen called her a sleepy little pig. Then he turned
to the side table to take a drink of schnapps--on the edge of it was
Nireeungo\x92s head with its two long plaits of jet-black hair hanging
down, and dripping an ensanguined stream upon the matted floor.

Clausen cleared out of Samoa the very next day. Te-bari had got upon his
nerves.

*****

The forest was dark by the time I had lit a fire between two of the wide
buttresses of the great tree, and I was shaking from head to foot with
ague. The attack, however, only lasted an hour, and then came the usual
delicious after-glow of warmth as the blood began to course riotously
through one\x92s veins and give that temporary and fictitious strength
accompanied by hunger, that is one of the features of malarial fever.

Sitting up, I began to pluck the mountain cock, intending to grill the
chest part as soon as the fire was fit. Then I heard a footstep on the
leaves, and looking up I saw Te-bari standing before me.

\x93_Ti-\xE2 ka po_\x94 (good evening), I said quietly, in his own language,
\x93will you eat with me?\x94

He came over to me, still grasping his rifle, and peered into my face.
Then he put out his hand, and sat down quietly in front of me. Except
for a girdle of dracaena leaves around his waist he was naked, but he
seemed well-nourished, and, in fact, fat.

\x93Will you smoke?\x94 I said presently, passing him a plug of tobacco and
my sheath knife, for I saw that a wooden pipe was stuck in his girdle of
leaves. He accepted it eagerly.

\x93Do you know me, white man?\x94 he asked abruptly, speaking in the Line
Islands tongue.

I nodded. \x93You are Te-bari of Maiana. The boy was frightened of you and
ran away.\x94

He showed his gleaming white teeth in a semi-mirthful, semi-tigerish
grin. \x93Yes, he was afraid. I would have shot him; but I did not because
he was with you. What is your name, white man?\x94

I told him.

\x93Ah, I have heard of you. You were with Kapitan Ebba (Captain Ever) in
the _Leota?_\x94

He filled his pipe, lit it, and then extended his hand to me for the
halt-plucked bird, and said he would finish it Then he looked at me
inquiringly.

\x93You have the shaking sickness of the western islands. It is not good
for you to lie here on the leaves. Come with me. I shall give you good
food to eat, and coco-nut toddy to drink.\x94

I asked him where he got his toddy from, as there were no coco-nut trees
growing so high up in the mountains. He laughed.

\x93I have a sweetheart in Siumu. She brings it to me. You shall see her
to-night. Come.\x94

Stooping down, he lifted me up on his right shoulder as if I were a
child, and then, with his own rifle and my gun and bag and the mountain
cock tucked under his left arm, he set off at a rapid pace towards one
of the higher spurs of the range. Nearly an hour later I found myself in
a cave, overlooking the sea. On the floor were a number of fine Samoan
mats and a well-carved _aluga_ (bamboo pillow).

I stretched myself out upon the mats, again shivering with ague, and
Te-bari covered me over with a thick _tappa_ cloth. Then he lit a fire
just outside the cave, and came back to me.

\x93You are hungry,\x94 he said, as he expanded his big mouth and grinned
pleasantly. Then from the roof of the cave he took down a basket
containing cold baked pigeons, fish and yams.

I ate greedily and soon after fell asleep. When I awoke it seemed to
be daylight--in reality it was only a little past midnight, but a full
bright moon was shining into the cave. Seated near me were my host and a
young woman--the \x93sweetheart\x94. I recognised her at once as Sa Laea, the
widow of a man killed in the fighting a few months previously. She was
about five and twenty years of age, very handsome, and quiet in her
demeanour. As far as I knew she had an excellent reputation, and I was
astonished at her consorting with an outlawed murderer. She came over
and shook hands, asked if I felt better, and should she \x93lomi-lomi\x94
 (massage) me. I thanked her and gladly accepted her offer.

An hour before dawn she bade me good-bye, urging me to remain, and rest
with her earless lover for a day or two, instead of coming on to Siumu,
where there was an outbreak of measles.

\x93When I come to-morrow night,\x94 she said, \x93I will bring a piece of kava
root and make kava for you.\x94

The news about the measles decided me. I resolved to at least spend
another day and night with my host. He was pleased.

Soon after breakfast he showed me around. His retreat was practically
impregnable. One man with a supply of breech-loading ammunition could
beat off a hundred foes. On the roof of the cave was a hole large enough
to let a man pass through, and from the top itself there was a most
glorious view. A mile away on the starboard hand, and showing through
the forest green, was a curving streak of bright red--it was the road,
or rather track, that led to Siumu. We filled our pipes, sat down and
talked.

How long had he lived there? I asked. Five months. He had found the cave
one day when in chase of a wild sow and her litter. Afraid of being shot
by the Siumu people? No, he was on good terms with _them_. Very often he
would shoot a wild pig and carry it to a certain spot on the road, and
leave it for the villagers. But he could not go into the village itself.
It was too risky--some one might be tempted to get those hundred Chile
dollars from the Germans. Food? There was plenty. Hundreds of wild pigs
in the mountains, and thousands of pigeons. The pigs he shot with his
Snider, the pigeons he snared, for he had no shot gun, and would very
much like to have one. Twice every week Sa Laea brought him food.
Tobacco too, sometimes, when she could buy it or beg it from the trader
at Siumu. Sometimes he would cross over to the northern watershed and
catch a basketful of the big speckled trout which teem in the mountain
pools. Some of these he would send by Sa Laea to the chief of Siumu,
who would send him in return a piece of kava, and some young drinking
coconuts as a token of good-will. Once when he went to fish he found
a young Samoan and two girls about to net a pool. The man fired at him
with his pigeon gun and the pellets struck him in the chest. Then he
(Te-bari) shot the man through the chest with his Winchester. No, he did
not harm the girls--he let them run away.

Sa Laea was a very good girl. Whenever he trapped a _manu-mea_ (the rare
_Didunculus_, or tooth-billed pigeon) she would take it to Apia and sell
it for five dollars--sometimes ten. He was saving this money. When he
had forty dollars he and Sa Laea were going to leave Samoa and go to
Maiana. Kapitan Cameron had promised Sa Laea to take them there when
they had forty dollars. Perhaps when his schooner next came to Siumu
they would have enough money, etc.

During the day I shot a number of pigeons, and when Sa Laea appeared
soon after sunset we had them cooked and ready. We made a delicious
meal, but before eating the lady offered up the usual evening prayer in
Samoan, and Te-bari the Earless sat with closed eyes like a saint, and
gave forth a sonorous _A-mene!_ when his ladylove ceased.

I left my outlaw friend next morning. Sa Laea came with me, for I had
promised to buy him a pigeon gun (costing ten dollars), a bag of shot,
powder and caps. I fulfilled my promise and the woman bade me farewell
with protestations of gratitude.

A few months later Te-bari and Sa Laea left the island in Captain
Cameron\x92s schooner, the _Manahiki_. I trust they \x93lived happily ever
afterwards\x94.



CHAPTER XX ~ \x93THE DANDIEST BOY THAT EVER STOOD UP IN A BOAT\x94

Nine years had come and gone since I had last seen Nukutavake and its
amiable brown^skinned people, and now as I again stepped on shore and
scanned the faces of those assembled on the beach to meet me, I missed
many that I had loved in the old, bright days when I was trading in the
Paumotus. For Death, in the hideous shape of small-pox, had been busy,
taking the young and strong and passing by the old and feeble.

It was a Sunday, and the little isle was quiet--as quiet as the ocean
of shining silver on which our schooner lay becalmed, eight miles beyond
the foaming surf of the barrier reef.

Teveiva, the old native pastor, was the first one to greet me, and the
tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke to me in his native Tahitian,
bade me welcome, and asked me had I come to sojourn with \x93we of
Nukutavake, for a little while\x94.

\x93Would that it were so, old friend. But I have only come on shore for a
few hours, whilst the ship is becalmed--to greet old friends dear to my
heart, and never forgotten since the days I lived among ye, nigh upon a
half-score years ago. But, alas, it grieves me that many are gone.\x94

A low sob came from the people, as they pressed around their friend of
bygone years, some clasping my hands and some pressing their faces to
mine And so, hand in hand, and followed by the people, the old teacher
and I walked slowly along the shady path of drooping palms, and came to
and entered the quiet mission house, through the open windows of which
came the sigh of the surf, and the faint call of sea-birds.

Some women, low-voiced and gentle, brought food, and young drinking nuts
upon platters of leaf, and silently placed them before the White Man,
who touched the food with his hand and drank a little of a coco-nut, and
then turned to Teveiva and said:--

\x93O friend, I cannot eat because of the sorrow that hath come upon thee.
Tell me how it befel.\x94

Speaking slowly, and with many tears, the old teacher told of how a ship
from Tahiti had brought the dread disease to the island, and how in a
little less than two months one in every three of the three hundred
and ten people had died, and of the long drought that followed upon the
sickness, when for a whole year the sky was as brass, and the hot sun
beat down upon the land, and withered up the coco-palms and pandanus
trees; and only for the night dews all that was green would have
perished. And now because of the long drought men were weak, and
sickening, and women and children were feint from want of food.

\x93It is as if God hath deserted us,\x94 said the old man.

\x93Nay,\x94 I assured him, \x93have no fear. Rain is near. It will come from the
westward as it has come to many islands which for a year have been eaten
up with drought and hunger like this land of Nukutavake. Have no fear, I
say. Wind and much heavy rain will soon come from the west.\x94

Then I wrote a few lines to the skipper.

\x93Send this letter to the ship by my boat,\x94 I said to Teveiva, \x93and
the captain will fill the boat with food. It is the ship\x92s gift to the
people.\x94

And then for the first time since the island had been smitten, the poor
women and children laughed joyously, and the men sprang to their feet,
and with loud shouts ran to the boat with the messenger who carried the
letter.

\x93Come, old friend,\x94 I said to the teacher, \x93walk with me round the
island. I would once more look upon the lagoon and sit with you a little
while as we have sat many times before, under the great _toa_ tree that
grows upon the point on the weather side.\x94

And so we two passed out of the mission house, and hand in hand, like
children, went into the quiet village and along the sandy path that
wound through the vista of serried, grey-boled palms, till we came to
the white, inner beach of the calm lagoon, which shone and glistened
like burnished silver. On the beach were some canoes.

Half a cable length from the shore, a tiny, palm-clad islet floated
on that shining lake, and the drooping fronds of the palms cast their
shadows upon the crystal water. Between the red-brown boles of the trees
there showed something white. The old man pointed to it and said:--

\x93Wilt come and look at the white man\x92s grave? \x91Tis well kept--as we
promised his mother should be done.\x94

Teveiva launched a canoe and we paddled gently over to the isle, which
was barely half an acre in extent From the beach there ran a narrow
path, neatly gravelled and bordered with many-hued crotons; it led to a
low square enclosure of coral stone cemented with lime. Within the walls
bright crotons grew thickly, and in the centre stood a plain slab of
marble on which was carved:--

                       Walter Tallis,
               boat-steerer of the ship _asia_.

               Died, December 25, 1869, aged 21.
                   Erected by his Mother.



I sat on the wall, and looked thoughtfully at the marble slab.

\x93\x91Tis twelve years since, Teveiva.\x94

\x93Aye, since last Christmas Day. And every year his mother sends a letter
and asks, \x91Is my boy\x92s grave well kept?\x92 and I write and say, \x91It is
well tended. One day in every week the women and girls come and weed
the path, and see that the plants thrive. This have we always done
since thou sent the marble slab.\x92 She sends her letters to the English
missionary at Papeite, and he sends mine to her in far away Beretania
(Britain).\x94

\x93Poor fellow,\x94 I thought; \x93it was just such a day as this--hot and
calm--when we laid him here under the palms.\x94

*****

On that day, twelve years before, the _Asia_ lay becalmed off the
island, and the skipper lowered his boat and came on shore to buy some
fresh provisions He was a cheery old fellow, with snow-white hair,
and was brimming over with good spirits, for the _Asia_ had had
extraordinary good luck.

\x93Over a thousand barrels of sparm oil under hatches already, and the
_Asia_ not out nine months,\x94 he said to me, \x93and we haven\x92t lost a boat,
nor any whale we fastened to yet And this boy here,\x94 and he turned
and clapped his hand on the shoulder of a young, handsome and stalwart
youth, who had come with him, \x93is my boat-steerer, Walter Tallis,
and the dandiest lad with an iron that ever stood up in a boat\x92s bow.
Forty-two years have I been fishin\x92, and until Walter here shipped on
the old _Asia_, thought that the Almighty never made a good boat-steerer
or boat-header outer eny one but a Yankee or a Portugee--or maybe a
Walker Injun. But Walter, though he _is_ a Britisher, was born fer
whale-killin\x92--and thet\x92s a fact.\x94

I shook hands with the young man, who laughed as he said:--

\x93Captain Allen is always buttering me up. But there are as good, and
better men than me with an iron on board the _Asia_. But I certainly
have had wonderful luck--for a Britisher,\x94 and he smiled slyly at his
captain.

Suddenly, we were chatting and smoking on the verandah, there came a
thrilling cry from the crew of the whaleboat, lying on the beach fifty
yards away.

\x93_Blo-o-w! bl-o-o-w!_\x94

And from the throats of three hundred natives came a roar \x93_Te folau! te
folau!_\x94 (\x93A whale! a whale!\x94)

The skipper and his boat-steerer sprang to their feet and looked
seaward, and there, less than a mile from the shore, was a mighty bull
cachalot, leisurely making his way through the glassy sea, swimming with
head up, and lazily rolling from side to side as if his one hundred tons
of bulk were as light as the weight of a flying-fish.

\x93Now, mister, you shall see what Walter and I can do with that fish,\x94
 cried the skipper to me. \x93And when we\x92ve settled him, and the other
boats are towing him off to the ship, Walter and I will come on shore
again and hev something to eat--if you will invite us.\x94

The boat flashed out from the beach, swept out of the passage through
the reef, and in twenty minutes was within striking distance of the
mighty cetacean. And, watching from the verandah, I saw the young
harpooner stand up and bury his first harpoon to the socket, following
it instantly with a second. Then slowly sank the huge head, and up came
the vast flukes in the air, and Leviathan sounded into the ocean depths
as the line spun through the stem notch, and the boat sped over the
mirror-like sea. In ten minutes she was hidden from view by a point of
land, and the last that we on the shore saw was \x93the dandiest lad that
ever stood up in a boat\x92s bow\x94 going aft to the steer-oar, and the old
white-headed skipper taking his place to use the deadly lance. And
then at the same time that the captain\x92s boat disappeared from view,
I noticed that the _Asia_ had lowered her four other boats, which were
pulling with furious speed in the direction which the \x93fast\x94 boat had
taken.

\x93Something must have gone wrong with the captain\x92s boat,\x94 I thought.

Something had gone wrong, for half an hour later one of the four \x93loose\x94
 boats pulled into the beach, and the old skipper, with tears streaming
down his rugged cheeks, stepped out, trembling from head to foot.

\x93My dandy boy, my poor boatsteerer,\x94 he said huskily to me--\x93that darned
whale fluked us, and near cut him in half. Poor lad, he didn\x92t suffer;
for death came sudden. An\x92 he is the only son of his mother. Can I bring
him to your house?\x94

Very tenderly and slowly the whaleboat\x92s crew carried the crushed and
mutilated form of the \x93dandiest boy\x94 to the house, and whilst I
helped the _Asia\x92s_ cooper make a coffin, Teveiva sat outside with the
heartbroken old skipper, and spoke to him in his broken English of the
Life Beyond. And so Walter Tallis, the last of an old Dorset family, was
laid to rest in the little isle in the quiet lagoon.

For two days our schooner lay in sight of the island; and then, as
midnight came, the blue sky became black, and the ship was snugged down
for the coming storm. The skipper sent up a rocket so that it might be
seen by the people on shore--to verify my prophecy about a change in the
weather.

Came then the wind and the sweet, blessed rain, and as the schooner,
under reefed canvas, plunged to the rising sea, the folk of Nukutavake,
I felt certain, stood outside their houses, and let the cooling
Heaven-sent streams drench their smooth, copper-coloured skins, whilst
good old Teveiva gave thanks to God.



CHAPTER XXI ~ THE PIT OF MAOT\xC2

For the Samoans I have always had a great admiration and affection.
Practically I began my island career in Samoa. More than a score of
years before Robert Louis Stevenson went to die on the verdured slopes
of Vailima Mountain, where he now rests, I was gaining my living by
running a small trading cutter between the beautiful islands of Upolu,
Savai\x92i, and Tutuila, and the people ever had my strong sympathies in
their struggle against Germany for independence. Even so far back as
1865, German agents were at work throughout the group, sowing the seeds
of discord, encouraging the chiefs of King Malietoa to rebel, so that
they could set up a German puppet in his place. And unfortunately they
have succeeded only too well, and Samoa, with the exception of the
Island of Tutuila, is now German territory. But it is as well, for the
people are kindly treated by their new masters.

The Samoans were always a warlike race. When not unitedly repelling
invasion by the all-conquering Tongans who sent fleet after fleet to
subjugate the country, they were warring among themselves upon various
pretexts--successions to chiefly titles, land disputes, abuse of neutral
territory, and often upon the most trivial pretexts. In my own time I
witnessed a sanguinary naval encounter between the people of the island
of Manono, and a war-party of ten great canoes from the district of
Lep\xE2 on the island of Upolu. I saw sixteen decapitated heads brought
on shore, and personally attended many of the wounded. And all this
occurred through the Lep\xE2 people having at a dance in their village
sung a song in which a satirical allusion was made to the Manono
people having once been reduced to eating shell-fish. The result was an
immediate challenge from Manono, and in all nearly one hundred men lost
their lives, villages were burnt, canoes destroyed, and thousands of
coco-nut and bread-fruit trees cut down and plantations ruined.

Sometimes in battle the Samoans were extremely chivalrous, at others
they were demons incarnate, as merciless, cold-blooded, and cruel as the
Russian police who slaughter women and children in the streets of the
capital of the Great White Czar, and I shall now endeavour to describe
one such terrible act, which after many years is still spoken of with
bated breath, and even amidst the suppressed sobs and falling tears of
the descendants of those who suffered.

On the north coast of Upolu there is a populous town and district named
Fasito\x92otai. It is part of the A\x92ana division of Upolu, and is noted,
even in Samoa, a paradise of Nature, for its extraordinary fertility and
beauty.

The A\x92ana people at this time were suffering from the tyranny of Manono,
a small island which boasted of the fact of its being the birthplace
and home of nearly all the ruling chiefs of Samoa, and the extraordinary
respect with which people of chiefly lineage are treated by Samoans,
generally led them to suffer the greatest indignities and oppressions
by the haughty and warlike Manonoans, who exacted under threats a
continuous tribute of food, fine mats and canoes. Finally, a
valorous young chief named Tausaga--though himself connected with
Manono--revolted, and he and his people refused to pay further tribute
to Manono, and a bloody struggle was entered upon.

For some months the war continued. No mercy was shown on either side to
the vanquished, and there is now a song which tells of how Palu, a
girl of seventeen, with a spear thrust half through her bosom by her
brother-in-law, a chief of Manono, shot him through the chest with a
horse pistol, and then breaking off the spear, knelt beside the dying
man, kissed him as her \x93brother\x94 and then decapitated him, threw the
head to her people with a cry of triumph--and died.

At first the A\x92ana people were victorious, and the haughty Manonoans
were driven off into their fleets of war canoes time and time again.
Then Manono made alliance with other powerful chiefs of Savai\x92i and
Upolu against A\x92ana, and two thousand of them, after great slaughter,
occupied the town of Fasito\x92otai, and the A\x92ana people retired to inland
fortresses, resolved to fight to the very last Among the leaders of the
defeated people were two white men--an Englishman and an American--whose
valour was so much admired, even by the Manono people, that they were
openly solicited to desert the A\x92ana people, and come over to the other
side, where great honours and gifts of lands awaited them. To their
credit, these two unknown men rejected the offer with scorn, and
announced their intention to die with the people with whom they had
lived for so many years. At their instance, many of the Manono warriors
who had been captured had been spared, and kept prisoners, instead of
being ruthlessly decapitated in the usual Samoan fashion, and their
heads exhibited, with much ignominy, from one village to another, as
trophies.

For two years the struggle continued, the Manonoans generally proving
victorious in many bloody battles. Then Fasito\x92otai was surprised in
the night, and two-thirds of its defenders, including many women and
children, slaughtered. Among those who died were the two white men. They
fell with thirty young men, who covered the retreat of the survivors of
the defending force.

The extraordinary valour which the A\x92ana people had displayed,
exasperated the Manono warriors to deeds of unnamable violence to
whatever prisoners fell into their cruel hands. One man--an old Manono
chief--who had taken part in the struggle, told me with shame that he
saw babies impaled on bayonets and spears carried exultingly from one
village to another.

Broken and disorganised, the beaten A\x92ana people dispersed in parties
large and small. Some sought refuge in the mountain forests, others
put to sea in frail canoes, and mostly all perished, but one party of
seventeen in three canoes succeeded in reaching Uea (Wallis Island),
three hundred miles to the westward of Samoa Among them was a boy of
seven years of age, who afterwards sailed with me in a labour vessel.
He well remembered the horrors of that awful voyage, and told me of his
seeing his father \x93take a knife and open a vein in his arm so that a
baby girl, who was dying of hunger, could drink\x94.

Relentless in their hate of the vanquished foe, the Manono warriors
established a cordon around them from the mountain range that traverses
the centre of Upolu to the sea, and at last, after many engagements,
drove them to the beach, where a final battle was fought. Exhausted,
famine-stricken, and utterly disheartened by their continuous reverses,
the unfortunate A\x92ana people were easily overcome, and the fighting
survivors surrendered, appealing to their enemies to at least spare the
lives of their women and children.

But no mercy was shown. As night began to fall, the Manonoans began to
dig a huge pit at a village named Maot\xE2, a mile from the scene of the
battle, and as some dug, others carried an enormous quantity of dead
logs of timber to the spot. By midnight the dreadful funeral pyre was
completed.

In case that it might be thought by my readers that I am exaggerating
the horrors of \x93The Pit of Maot\xE2,\x94 I will not here relate what I,
personally, was told by people who were present at the awful deed,
but repeat the words of Mr. Stair, an English missionary of the London
Missionary Society, whose book, entitled Old Samoa, tells the story
in quiet, yet dramatic language, and although in regard to some minor
details he was misinformed, his account on the whole is correct, and is
the same as was told to me by men who had actually participated in the
tragedy.

The awful preparations were completed, and then the victors, seizing
those of their captives who were bound on account of their strength and
had a few hours previously surrendered, hurried them to the fatal pit,
in which the huge pile of timber had been lit. And as the flames roared
and ascended, and the darkness of the surrounding forest was made as
light as day, the first ten victims of four hundred and sixty-two were
cast in to burn, amid the howls and yells of their savage captors.

Mr. Stair says: \x93This dreadful butchery was continued during one or two
days and nights, fresh timber being heaped on from time to time, as it
was with difficulty that the fire could be kept burning, from the number
of victims who were ruthlessly sacrificed there.

\x93The captives from Fasito\x92otai were selected for the first offerings,
and after them followed others in quick succession, night and day,
early and late, until the last wretched victim had been consumed. Most
heartrending were the descriptions I received from persons who had
actually looked on the fearful scenes enacted there.

\x93Innocent children skipped joyfully along the pathway by the side of
their conductors and murderers,{*} deceived by the cruel lie that they
were to be spared, and were then on their way to bathe; when suddenly
the blazing pile (in the Pit of Noat\xE2) with the horrid sight of their
companions and friends being thrown alive into the midst, told them the
dreadful truth; whilst their terror was increased by the yells of savage
triumph of the murderers, or the fearful cries of the tortured victims
which reached their ears.\x94

     * I was told that the poor children were led away as they
     thought to be given si mea ai vela--\x93something hot\x94 (to
     eat).--[L.B.]

When I first saw the dreadful Tito (pit) of Moat\xE2, it was at the close
of a calm, windless day. I had been pigeon-shooting in the mountain
forest, and was accompanied by a stalwart young Samoan warrior. As we
were returning to Fasito\x92otai, he asked me if I would come a little
out of the way and look at the \x93Tito,\x94 a place he said \x93that is to our
hearts, and is, holy ground\x94. He spoke so reverently that I was much
impressed.

Following a winding path we suddenly came in view of the pit. The sides
were almost covered with many beautiful varieties of crotons, planted
there by loving hands, and it was very evident to me that the place was
indeed holy ground. At the bottom of the pit was a dreadful reminder of
the past--a large circle of black charcoal running round the sides,
and enclosing in the centre a large space which at first I thought was
snow-white sand, but on descending into the pit with uncovered head,
and looking closer, found it was composed of tiny white coral pebbles.
Hardly a single leaf or twig marred the purity of the whiteness of the
cover under which lay the ashes of nearly five hundred human beings.
Every Saturday the women and children of Fasito\x92otai and the adjacent
villages visited the place, and reverently removed every bit of
_d\xE9bris_, and the layer of stones, carefully selected of an equal size,
was renewed two or three times a year as they became discoloured by
the action of the rain. Encompassing the wooded margin of the pit were
numbers of orange, lime and banana trees, all in full fruit. These were
never touched--to do so would have been sacrilege, for they were sacred
to the dead. All around us were hundreds of wood-doves and pigeons, and
their peaceful notes filled the forest with saddening melody. \x93No one
ever fires a gun here,\x94 said my companion softly, \x93it is forbidden. And
it is to my mind that the birds know that it is a sacred place and holy
ground.\x94



CHAPTER XXII ~ VAN\xC2KI, THE STRONG SWIMMER

On the afternoon of the 4th of June, 1885, the Hawaiian labour schooner
_Mana_, of which I was \x93recruiter\x94 was beating through Apolima Straits,
which divide the islands of Upolu and Savai\x92i. The south-east trade was
blowing very strongly and a three-knot current setting against the
wind had raised a short, confused sea, and our decks were continually
flooded. But we had to thrash through it with all the sail we could
possibly carry, for among the sixty-two Gilbert Islands \x93recruits\x94 I had
on board three had developed symptoms of what we feared was small-pox,
and we were anxious to reach the anchorage off the town of Mulifanua at
the west end of Upolu before dark. At Mulifanua there was a large German
cotton plantation, employing four hundred \x93recruited\x94 labourers, and on
the staff of European employ\xE9s was a resident doctor. In the ordinary
course of things we should have gone on to Apia, which was twenty miles
farther on, and our port of destination, and handed over my cargo of
\x93recruits\x94 to the manager of the German firm there; but as Mulifanua
Plantation was also owned by them, and my \x93recruits\x94 would probably be
sent there eventually, the captain and I decided to land the entire
lot at that place, instead of taking them to Apia, where the European
community would be very rough upon us if the disease on board did turn
out to be small-pox.

As the skipper and I were standing aft, watching the showers of spray
that flew over the schooner every time a head sea smacked her in the
face, one of the hands shouted out that there was a man in the water,
close to on the weather bow. Hauling our head sheets to windward we
head-reached towards him, and in a few minutes the man, who was swimming
in the most gallant fashion, was alongside, and clambered on board. He
was a rather dark-skinned Polynesian, young, and of extremely powerful
physique.

\x93Thanks, good friends,\x94 he said, speaking in halting Samoan. \x93\x91Tis a
high sea in which to swim. Yet,\x94 and here he glanced around him at the
land on both sides, \x93I was half-way across.\x94

\x93Come below,\x94 I said, \x93and take food and drink, and I will give you a
_lava-lava_ (waistcloth).\x94 (He was nude.)

He thanked me, and then again his keen dark eyes were fixed upon
Savai\x92i--three miles distant.

\x93Art bound to Savai\x92i?\x94 he asked quickly.

\x93Nay. We beat against the wind. To-night we anchor at Mulifanua.\x94

\x93Ah!\x94 and his face changed, \x93then I must leave, for it is to Savai\x92i I
go,\x94 and he was about to go over the rail when we held him back.

\x93Wait, friend. In a little time the ship will be close in to the passage
through the reef at Saleleloga\x94 (a town of Savai\x92i), \x93and then as we put
the ship about, thou canst go on thy way. Why swim two leagues and tempt
the sharks when there is no need. Come below and eat and drink, and have
no fear. We shall take thee as near to the passage as we can.\x94

The skipper came below with us, and after providing our visitor with a
navy blue waistcloth, we gave him a stiff tumbler of rum, and some
bread and meat. He ate quickly and then asked for a smoke, and in a few
minutes more we asked him who he was, and why he was swimming across the
straits. We spoke in Samoan. \x93Friends,\x94 he said, \x93I will tell the truth.
I am one of the _kau galuega_ (labourers) on Mulifanua Plantation.
Yesterday being the Sabbath, and there being no work, I went into the
lands of the Samoan village to steal young nuts and _taro_. I had thrown
down and husked a score, and was creeping back to my quarters by a
side path through the grove, when I was set upon by three young Samoan
_manaia_ (bloods) who began beating me with clubs--seeking to murder me.
We fought, and I, knowing that death was upon me, killed one man with a
blow of my _tori nui_{*} (husking stick) of iron-wood, and then drove it
deep into the chest of another. Then I fled, and gaining the beach, ran
into the sea so that I might swim to Savai\x92i, for there will I be safe
from pursuit\x94 \x93\x91Tis a long swim, man--\x91tis five leagues.\x94 He laughed and
expanded his brawny chest \x93What is that to me? I have swam ten leagues
many times.\x94

     * A heavy, pointed stick of hardwood, used for husking coco-
     nuts.

\x93Where do you belong?\x94 asked the skipper in English.

He answered partly in the same language and partly in his curious
Samoan.

\x93I am of Anuda.{*} My name is Van\xE0ki. Two years ago I came to Samoa in a
German labour ship to work on the plantations, for I wanted to see other
places and earn money, and then return to Anuda and speak of the things
I had seen. It was a foolish thing of me. The German _suis_ (overseers)
are harsh men. I worked very hard on little food. It was for that I had
to steal. And I am but one man from Anuda, and there are four hundred
others from many islands--black-skinned, man-eating, woolly-haired
pigs from the Solomon and New Hebrides, and fierce fellows like these
Tafito{**} men from the Gilbert Islands such as I now see here on this
ship. No one of them can speak my tongue of Anuda. And now I am a free
man.\x94

     * Anuda or Cherry Island is an outlier of the Santa Cruz
     Group, in the South Pacific. The natives are more of the
     Polynesian than the Melanesian type, and are a fine,
     stalwart race.

     ** Tafitos--natives of the Pacific Equatorial Islands such
     as the Gilbert Group.

\x93You are a plucky fellow,\x94 said the captain, \x93and deserve good luck.
Here, take this dollar, and tie it up in the corner of your waistcloth.
You can buy yourself some tobacco from the white trader at Salelelogo.\x94

\x93Ah, yes, indeed. But\x94 (and here he dropped into Samoan again, and
turned to me) \x93I would that the good captain would take me as a sailor
for his next voyage. I was for five years with Captain Macleod of
Noum\xE9a. And I am a good man--honest, and no boaster.\x94

I shook my head. \x93It cannot be. From Mulifanua we go to Apia And there
will be news there of what thou hast done yesterday, and we cannot hide
a man on this small ship.\x94 And then I asked the captain what he thought
of the request.

\x93We ought to try and work it,\x94 said the skipper. \x93If he was five years
with Jock Macleod he\x92s all right.\x94

We questioned him further, and he satisfied us as to his _bona-fides_,
giving us the names of many men--captains and traders--known to us
intimately.

\x93Van\xE2ki,\x94 I said, \x93this is what may be done, but you must be quick, for
presently we shall be close to the passage off Saleleloga, and must
go about When you land, go to Miti-loa the chief, and talk to
him privately. There is bad blood between his people and those of
Mulifanua----\x94

\x93I know it It has been so for two years past.\x94

\x93Now, listen. Miti-loa and the captain here and I are good friends. Tell
him that you have seen us. Hide nothing from him of yesterday. He is a
strong man.\x94

\x93I know it Who does not, in this part of Samoa know of Miti-loa?\x94 {*}

\x93That is true. And Miti knows us two _papalagi_{**} well. Stay with
him, work for him, and do all that he may ask. He will ask but
little--perhaps nothing. In twenty days from now, this ship will be at
Apia ready for sea again. We go to the Tokelaus\x94 (Gilbert Islands) \x93or
else to the Solomons, and if thou comest on board in the night who is to
know of it but Miti-loa and thyself?\x94

     * Miti-loa--\x93Long Dream \x93.

     ** White men--foreigners.

The mate put his head under the flap of the skylight \x93Close on to the
reef, sir. Time to go about.\x94

\x93All right, Carey. Put her round Now Van\xE2ki, up on deck, and over you
go.\x94

Van\xE2ki nodded and smiled, and followed us. Then quickly he took off his
_lava-lava_, deftly wrapped it about his head like an Indian turban, and
held out his hand in farewell, and every one on board cheered as he I
leapt over the side, and began his swim to the land.

From the cross-trees I watched him through my glasses, saw him enter the
passage into smooth water, and disdaining to rest on any of the exposed
and isolated projections of reef which lined the passage, continue his
course towards the village. Then a rain squall hid him from view, but we
knew that he was safe.

That evening we landed our \x93recruits\x94 at Mulifanua, and after thoroughly
disinfecting the ship, we sailed a few days later for Apia. Here we were
again chartered to proceed to the New Hebrides and Solomon Islands for
another cruise.

As we were refitting, I received a letter from Miti-loa, telling me that
Van\xE2ki was safe, and would be with us in a few days. When he did arrive,
he came with Miti-loa himself in his _taumalua_ (native boat) and a
score of his people. Van\xE2ki was so well made-up as a Samoan that when
he stepped on deck the skipper and I did not recognise him. We sent him
below, and told him to keep quiet until we were well under way.

\x93Ah,\x94 said Miti-loa to us, \x93what a man is he! Such a swimmer was never
before seen. My young men have made much of him, and I would he would
stay with me.\x94

Van\xE2ki turned out an acquisition to our ship\x92s company, and soon became
a favourite with every one. He was highly delighted when he was placed
on the articles at the usual rate of wages paid to native seamen--\xA33 per
month. Our crew were natives from all parts of Polynesia, but English
was the language used by them generally to each other. Like all vessels
in the labour trade we carried a double crew--one to man the boats when
recruiting, and one to work the ship when lying \x93off and on\x94 at any
island where we could not anchor, and Van\xE2ki was greatly pleased when I
told him that he should have a place in my boat, instead of being put in
the \x93covering"{*} boat.

     * The \x93covering\x94 boat is that which stands by to open fire
     if the \x93landing\x94 boat is attacked.

We made a splendid run down to the Solomons from Samoa, and when in
sight of San Cristoval, spoke a French labour vessel from Noum\xE9a,
recruiting for the French New Hebrides Company. Her captain and
his \x93recruiter\x94 (both Englishmen) paid us a visit. They were old
acquaintances of our captain and myself, and as they came alongside in
their smart whaleboat and Van\xE2ki saw their faces, he gave a weird yell
of delight, and rubbed noses with them the moment they stepped on deck.

\x93Hallo, Van\xE2ki, my lad,\x94 said the skipper of _La Metise_, shaking his
hand, \x93how are you?\x94 Then turning to us he said: \x93Van\xE2ki was with me
when I was mate with Captain Macleod, in the old _Aurore_ of Noum\xE9a.
He\x92s a rattling good fellow for a native, and I wish I had him with me
now. Wherever did you pick him up?\x94

We told him, and Houston laughed when I narrated the story of Van\xE2ki\x92s
swim.

\x93Oh, that\x92s nothing for him to do. Why, the beggar once swam from the
Banks Group across to the Torres Islands. Has he never told you about
it?\x94

\x93No. And I would hardly believe him if he did. Why, the two groups are
fifty miles apart.\x94

\x93No, from Tog in the Torres Islands to Ureparapara in the Banks Group
is a little over forty miles. But you must wheedle the yarn out of him.
He\x92s a bit sensitive of talking about it, on account of his at first
being told he was a liar by several people. But Macleod, two traders who
were passengers with us, and all the crew of the _Aurore_ know the story
to be true. We sent an account of it to the Sydney papers.\x94

\x93I\x92ll get him to tell me some day,\x94 I said \x93I once heard of a native
woman swimming from Nanomaga in the Ellice Group to Nanomea--thirty-five
miles--but never believed it for a long time.\x94

After spending half an hour with us, our friends went back to their
ship, each having shaken hands warmly with Van\xE2ki, and wished him good
luck.

It was some days before the captain and I had time to hear Van\xE2ki\x92s
story, which I relate as nearly as possible in his own words.

First of all, however, I must mention that Ureparapara or Bligh Island
is a well-wooded, fertile spot, about sixteen miles in circumference,
and is an extinct crater. It is now the seat of a successful mission.
Tog is much smaller, well-wooded, and inhabited, and about nine hundred
feet high. At certain times of the year a strong current sets in a
northerly and westerly direction, and it is due to this fact that Van\xE2ki
accomplished his swim. Now for his story.

\x93I was in the port watch of the _Aurore_. We came to Ureparapara in
the month of June to \x91recruit\x92 and got four men. Whilst we were there,
Captain Houston (who was then mate of the _Aurore_) asked me if I would
dive under the ship and look at her copper; for a week before we had
touched a reef. So I dived, and found that five sheets of copper were
gone from the port side about half a fathom from the keel. So the
captain took five new sheets of copper, and punched the nail holes, and
gave me one sheet at a time, and I nailed them on securely. In three
hours it was done, for the ship was in quiet, clear water, and I knew
what to do. The captain then said to me laughingly that he feared I had
but tacked on the sheets loosely, and that they would come off. My heart
was sore at this, and so I asked Mr. Houston, who is a good diver, to
go and look. And he dived and looked, and then five other of the
crew--natives--dived and looked, and they all said that the work was
well and truly done--all the nails driven home, and the sheets smooth,
and without a crinkle. This pleased the captain greatly, and he gave me
a small gold piece, and told me that I could go on shore, and spend it
at the white trader\x92s store.

\x93Now I did a foolish thing. I bought from the trader two bottles of
strange grog called _arrak_. It was very strong--stronger than rum--and
soon I and two others who drank it became very drunk, and lay on the
ground like pigs. Mr. Houston came and found me, and brought me on
board, and I was laid on the after-deck under the awning.

\x93At sunset the ship sailed. I was still asleep, and heard nothing,
though in a little while it began to blow, and much rain fell The
captain let me lie on the lee side, so that the rain might beat upon me,
and bring me to life again.

\x93When four bells struck I awoke. I was ashamed. Waiting until the wheel
was relieved, I crept along the deck unseen, for it was very dark, and
goy up on the top of the top-gallant fo\x92c\x92stle, and again lay down. The
ship was running before the wind under close-reefed sails, and the sea
was so great that she pitched heavily every now and then, and much water
came over the bows. This did me good, and I soon began to feel able to
go below and turn in in my bunk. Then presently, as I was about to rise,
the ship made a great plunge, and a mighty sea fell upon her, and I was
swept away. No one saw me go, for no one knew that I was there, and the
night was very, very dark.

\x93When I came to the surface, I could see the ship\x92s lights, and cried
out, but no one heard me, for the wind and sea made a great noise; and
then, too, there was sweeping rain In a little while the lights were
gone, and I was alone.

\x93\x91Now,\x92 I said to myself, \x91Van\xE2ki, thou art a fool, and will go into the
belly of a shark because of becoming drunk.\x92 And then my heart came back
to me, and I swam on easily over the sea, hoping that I would be missed,
and the ship heave-to, and send a boat. But I looked in vain.

\x93By-and-by the sky cleared, and the stars came out, but the wind still
blew fiercely, and the seas swept me along so quickly that I knew it
would be folly for me to try and face them, and try to swim back to
Ureparapara.

\x93\x91I will swim to Tog,\x92 I said; \x91if the sharks spare me I can do it.\x92
For now that the sky was clear, and I could see the stars my fear died
away; and so I turned a little, and swam to the west a little by the
north.

\x93There was a strong current with me, and hour by hour as I swam the wind
became less, and the sea died away.

\x93When daylight came I was not tired, and rested on my back. And as I
rested, two green turtle rose near me. They looked at me, and I was
glad, for I knew that where turtle were there would be no sharks. I am
not afraid of sharks, but what is a man to do with a shark in the open
sea without a knife?

\x93Towards noon there came rain I lay on my back and put my hollowed hands
together, and caught enough to satisfy my great thirst. The rain did not
last long.

\x93A little after noon I saw the land--the island of Tog. It was but three
leagues away.

\x93Then I swam into a great and swift tide-rip, which carried me to the
eastward. It was so strong that I feared it would take me away from the
island, but soon it turned and swept me to the westward. And then I saw
the land becoming nearer and nearer.

\x93When the sun was nearly touching the sea-rim, I was so close to the
south-end of Tog, that I could see the spars of a ship lying at anchor
in the bay called Pio. And then when the sun had set I could see the
lights of many canoes catching flying-fish by torchlight.

\x93I swam on and came to the ship. It was the _Aurore_.

\x93I clambered up the side-ladder, and stood on deck, and the man who was
on anchor watch--an ignorant Tokelau--shouted out in fear, and ran to
tell the captain, and Mr. Houston.

\x93They brought me below and made much of me, and gave me something to
drink which made me sleep for many hours.

\x93When I awakened I was strong and well, but my eyes were _malai_
(bloodshot). That is all.\x94



CHAPTER XXIII ~ TWO PACIFIC ISLANDS BIRDS: THE SOUTH SEA CORNCRAKE AND
THE TOOTH-BILLED PIGEON



THE SOUTH SEA CORNCRAKE

Although I had often heard of the \x93corncrake\x94 or landrail of the British
Isles, I did not see one until a few years ago, on my first visit to
Ireland, when a field labourer in County Louth brought me a couple,
which he had killed in a field of oats. I looked at them with interest,
and at once recognised a striking likeness in shape, markings and
plumage to an old acquaintance--the shy and rather rare \x93banana-bird\x94 of
some of the Polynesian and Melanesian Islands. I had frequently when in
Ireland heard at night, during the summer months, the repeated and
harsh \x93crake, crake,\x94 of many of these birds, issuing from the fields of
growing corn, and was very curious to see one, for the unmelodious cry
was exactly like that of the _kili vao_, or \x93banana-bird\x94 of the
Pacific Islands. And when I saw the two corncrakes I found them to be
practically the same bird, though but half the size of the _kili vao_.

_Kili vao_ in native means bush-snipe, as distinct from _kili fusi_,
swamp snipe. It feeds upon ripe bananas, and papaws (mamee apples), and
such other sweet fruit, that when over-ripe fall to the ground. It is
very seldom seen in the day-time, when the sun is strong, though
its hoarse frog-like note may often be heard in cultivated banana
plantations, or on the mountain sides, where the wild banana thrives.
At early dawn, or towards sunset, however, they come out from their
retreats, and search for fallen bananas, papaws or guavas, and I
have spent many a delightful half-hour watching them from my own
hiding-place. Although they have such thick, long and clumsy legs, and
coarse splay feet they run to and fro with marvelous speed, continually
uttering their insistent croak. Usually they were in pairs, male and
female, although I once saw a male and three female birds together. The
former can easily be recognised, for it is considerably larger than its
mate, and the coloration of the plumage on the back and about the eyes
is more pronounced, and the beautiful quail-like semi-circular belly
markings are more clearly defined. When disturbed, and if unable to
run into hiding among the dead banana leaves, they rise and present
a ludicrous appearance, for their legs hang down almost straight, and
their flight is slow, clumsy and laborious, and seldom extends more than
fifty yards.

The natives of the Banks and Santa Cruz Groups (north of the New
Hebrides) assert that the _kili_ is a ventriloquist, and delights to
\x93fool\x94 any one attempting to capture it. \x93If you hear it call from
the right, it is hiding to the left; and its mate is perhaps only
two fathoms away from you, hiding under the fallen banana leaves, and
pretending to be dead. And you will never find either, unless it is a
dark night, and you suddenly light a big torch of dried coco-nut leaves;
then they become dazed and stupid, and will let you catch them with your
hand.\x94

Whilst one cannot accept the ventriloquial theory, there can be no doubt
of the extraordinary cunning in hiding, and noiseless speed on foot of
these birds when disturbed. One afternoon, near sunset, I was returning
from pigeon-shooting on Ureparapara (Banks Group) when in walking along
the margin of a taro-swamp, which was surrounded by banana trees, a big
_kili_ rose right in front of me, and before I could bring my gun to
shoulder, my native boy hurled his shoulder-stick at it and brought it
down, dead. Then he called to me to be ready for a shot at the mate,
which, he said, was close by in hiding.

Walking very gently, he carefully scanned the dead leaves at the foot of
the banana trees, and silently pointed to a heap which was soddened by
rain.

\x93It is underneath there,\x94 he whispered, then flung himself upon the
heap of leaves, and in a few seconds dragged out the prize--a fine
full-grown female bird, beautifully marked. I put her in my game-bag.
During our two-mile walk to the village she behaved in a disgusting
manner, and so befouled herself (after the manner of a young Australian
curlew when captured) that she presented a repellent appearance, and
had such a disgusting odour that I was at first inclined to throw
her--game-bag and all--away. However, my native boy washed her, and then
we put her in a native pigeon cage. In the morning she was quite clean
and dry, but persistently hid her head when any one approached, refused
to take food and died two days later, although I kept the cage in a dark
place.

These birds are excellent eating when not too fat; but when the papaws
are ripe they become grossly unwieldy, and the whole body is covered
with thick yellow fat, and the flesh has the strong sweet taste of the
papaw. At this time, so the natives say, they are actually unable to
rise for flight, and are easily captured by the women and children at
work in the banana and taro plantations.

(Apropos of this common tendency of the flesh of birds to acquire the
taste of their principal article of food, I may mention that in those
Melanesian Islands where the small Chili pepper grows wild, the pigeons
at certain times of the year feed almost exclusively upon the ripe
berries, and their flesh is so pungent as to be almost uneatable. At
one place on the littoral of New Britain, there is a patch of country
covered with pepper trees, and it is visited by thousands of pigeons,
who devour the berries, although their ordinary food of sweet berries
was available in profusion in the mountain forests.)

On some of the Melanesian islands there is a variety of the banana-bird
which frequents the yam and sweet potato plantation, digs into the
hillocks with its power-fill feet, and feeds upon the tubers, as does
the rare toothed-billed pigeon.

One day, when I was residing in the Caroline Islands, a pair of live
birds were brought to me by the natives, who had snared them. They were
in beautiful plumage, and I determined to try and keep them.

The natives quickly made me an enclosure about twenty feet square of
bamboo slats about an inch or two apart, driving them into the ground,
and making a \x93roof\x94 of the same material, sufficiently high to permit of
three young banana trees being planted therein. Then we quickly covered
the ground with dead banana leaves, small sticks and other _d\xE9bris_, and
after making it as \x93natural\x94 as possible, laid down some ripe bananas,
and turned the birds into the enclosure. In ten seconds they had
disappeared under the heap of leaves as silently as a beaver or a
platypus takes to the water.

During the night I listened carefully outside the enclosure, but the
captives made neither sound nor appearance. They were still \x93foxing,\x94 or
as my Samoan servant called it, _le toga-fiti e mate_ (pretending to be
dead).

All the following day there was not the slightest movement of the
leaves, but an hour after sunset, when I was on my verandah, smoking and
chatting with a fellow trader, a native boy came to us, grinning with
pleasure, and told us that the birds were feeding. I had a torch of
dried coco-nut leaves all in readiness. It was lit, and as the bright
flame burst out, and illuminated the enclosure, I felt a thrill of
delight--both birds were vigorously feeding upon a very ripe and
\x93squashy\x94 custard apple, disregarding the bananas. The light quite
dazed them, and they at once ceased eating, and sat down in a terrified
manner, with their necks outstretched, and their bills on the ground. We
at once withdrew. In the morning, I was charmed to hear them \x93craking,\x94
 and from that time forward they fed well, and afforded me many a happy
hour in watching their antics. I was in great hopes of their breeding,
for they had made a great pile of _d\xE9bris_ between the banana trees,
into which in the day-time they would always scamper when any one
passed, and my natives told me that the end of the rainy season was
the incubating period. As it was within a few weeks of that time, I was
filled with pleasurable anticipations, and counted the days. Alas, for
my hopes! One night, a predatory village pig, smelling the fruit which
was always placed in the enclosure daily, rooted a huge hole underneath
the bambods, and in the morning my pets were gone, and nevermore did I
hear their hoarse crake! crake!--ever pleasing to me during the night.

*****



THE TOOTH-BILLED PIGEON OF SAMOA--(_Didunculus Strigirostris_)

The recent volcanic outburst on the island of Savai\x92i in the Samoan
Group, after a period of quiescence of about two hundred years, has, so
a Californian paper states, revealed the fact that one of the rarest and
most interesting birds in the world, and long supposed to be peculiar to
the Samoan Islands, and all but extinct, is by no means so in the latter
respect, for the convulsion in the centre of the island, where the
volcanic mountain stands nearly 4,000 feet high, has driven quite a
number of the birds to the littoral of the south coast. So at least it
was reported to the San Francisco journal by a white trader residing on
the south side of Savai\x92i during the outbreak.

For quite a week before the first tremors and groan-ings of the mountain
were felt and heard, the natives said that they had seen _Manu Mea_
(tooth-billed pigeons) making their way down to the coast. Several were
killed and eaten by children.

Before entering into my own experiences and knowledge of this
extraordinary bird, gained during a seven years\x92 residence in Samoa,
principally on the island of Upolu, I cannot do better than quote
from Dr. Stair\x92s book, _Old Samoa_, his description of the bird. Very
happily, his work was sent to me some years ago, and I was delighted to
find in it an account of the _Manu Mea_ (red bird) and its habits. In
some respects he was misinformed, notably in that in which he was told
that the _Didunculus_ was peculiar to the Samoan Islands; for the bird
certainly is known in some of the Solomon Islands, and also in the
Admiralty Group--two thousand miles to the north-west of Samoa. Here,
however, is what Dr. Stair remarks:--

\x93One of the curiosities of Samoan natural history is _Le Manu Mea_,
or red bird of the natives, the tooth-billed pigeon (_Didunculus
Strigirostris_, Peale), and is peculiar to the Samoan Islands. This
remarkable bird, so long a puzzle to the scientific world, is only found
in Samoa, and even there it has become so scarce that it is rapidly
becoming extinct, as it falls an easy prey to the numerous wild cats
ranging the forests. It was first described and made known to the
scientific world by Sir William Jardine, in 1845, under the name of
_Gnathodon Strigirostris_, from a specimen purchased by Lady Hervey in
Edinburgh, amongst a number of Australian skins. Its appearance excited
great interest and curiosity, but its true habitat was unknown until
some time after, when it was announced by Mr. Strickland before the
British Association at York, that Mr. Titian Peale, of the United States
Exploring Expedition, had discovered a new bird allied to the dodo,
which he proposed to name _Didunculus Strigirostris_. From the specimen
in Sir William Jardine\x92s possession the bird was figured by Mr. Gould in
his _Birds of Australia_, and its distinctive characteristics shown; but
nothing was known of its habitat. At that time the only specimens known
to exist out of Samoa were the two in the United States, taken there by
Commodore Wilkes, and the one in the collection of Sir William Jardine,
in Edinburgh. The history of this last bird is singular, and may be
alluded to here.

\x93To residents in Samoa the _Manu Mea_, or red bird, was well known by
repute, but as far as I know, no specimen had ever been obtained by any
resident on the islands until the year 1843, when two fine birds, male
and female, were brought to me by a native who had captured them on the
nest I was delighted with my prize, and kept them carefully, but could
get no information whatever as to what class they belonged. After a time
one was unfortunately killed, and not being able to gain any knowledge
respecting the bird, I sent the surviving one to Sydney, by a friend, in
1843, hoping it would be recognised and described; but nothing was known
of it there, and my friend left it with a bird dealer in Sydney, and
returned to report his want of success. It died in Sydney, and the skin
was subsequently sent to England with other skins for sale, including
the skin of an Apt\xE9ryx, from Samoa. Later on the skin of the _Manu
Mea_ was purchased by Lady Hervey, and subsequently it came into the
possession of Sir William Jar-dine, by whom it was described. Still
nothing was known of its habitat--but this bird which I had originally
sent to Sydney from Samoa was the means of bringing it under the notice
of the scientific world, and thus in some indirect manner of obtaining
the object I had in view.

\x93After my return to England, in 1846, the late Dr. Gray, of the British
Museum, showed me a drawing of the bird, which I at once recognised; as
also a drawing of a species of Apt\xE9ryx which had been purchased in
the same lot of skins. A native of Samoa, who was with me, at once
recognised both birds. Dr. Gray and Mr. Mitchell (of the Zoological
Gardens in London) were much interested in the descriptions I gave
them, and urged that strong efforts should be made to procure living
specimens. But no steps were taken to obtain the bird until fourteen
years after, when, having returned to Australia, I was surprised to see
a notice in the _Melbourne Argus_, of August 3, 1862, to the effect
that the then Governor of Victoria, Sir Henry Barkley, had received
a communication from the Zoological Society, London, soliciting his
co-operation in endeavouring to ascertain further particulars as to the
habitat of a bird they were desirous of obtaining; forwarding drawings
and particulars as far as known at the same time; offering a large sum
for living specimens or skins delivered in London. I at once recognised
that the bird sought after was the _Manu Mea_, and gave the desired
information and addresses of friends in Samoa, through whose
instrumentality a living specimen was safely received in London, _via_
Sydney, on April 10, 1864, the Secretary of the Zoological Society
subsequently writing to Dr. Bennett of Sydney, saying, \x91The _La Hogue_
arrived on April 10, and I am delighted to be able to tell you that the
_Didunculus_ is now alive, and in good health in the gardens, and Mr.
Bartlett assures me is likely to do well\x92.

\x93In appearance the bird may be described as about the size of a large
wood-pigeon, with similar legs and feet, but the form of its body more
nearly resembles that of the partridge. The remarkable feature of the
bird is that whilst its legs are those of a pigeon, the beak is that of
the parrot family, the upper mandible being hooked like the parrot\x92s,
the under one being deeply serrated; hence the name, tooth-billed
pigeon. This peculiar formation of the beak very materially assists the
bird in feeding on the potato-loke root, or rather fruit, of the _soi_,
or wild yam, of which it is fond. The bird holds the tuber firmly with
its feet, and then rasps it upwards with its parrot-like beak, the lower
mandible of which is deeply grooved. It is a very shy bird, being seldom
found except in the retired parts of the forest, away from the coast
settlements. It has great power of wing, and when flying makes a noise,
which, as heard in the distance, closely resembles distant thunder, for
which I have on several occasions mistaken it. It both roosts and feeds
on the ground, as also on stumps or low bushes, and hence becomes an
easy prey to the wild cats of the forest. These birds also build their
nests on low bushes or stumps, and are thus easily captured. During
the breeding season the male and female relieve each other with great
regularity, and guard their nests so carefully that they fall an easy
prey to the fowler; as in the case of one bird being taken its companion
is sure to be found there shortly after. They were also captured with
birdlime, or shot with arrows, the fowler concealing himself near
an open space, on which some _soi_, their favourite food, had been
scattered.

\x93The plumage of the bird may be thus described. The head, neck, breast,
and upper part of the back is of greenish black. The back, wings, tail,
and under tail coverts of a chocolate red. The legs and feet are of
bright scarlet; the mandibles, orange red, shaded off near the tips with
bright yellow.\x94

Less than twenty years ago I was residing on the eastern end of Upolu
(Samoa), and during my shooting excursions on the range of mountains
that traverses the island from east to west, saw several _Didunculi_,
and, I regret to say, shot two. For I had no ornithological knowledge
whatever, and although I knew that the Samoans regarded the _Manu Mea_
as a rare bird, I had no idea that European savants and museums would
be glad to obtain even a stuffed specimen. The late Earl of Pembroke,
to whom I wrote on the subject from Australia, strongly urged me to
endeavour to secure at least one living specimen; so also did Sir George
Grey. But although I--like Mr. Stair--wrote to many native friends in
Samoa, offering a high price for a bird, I had no success; civil war
had broken out, and the people had other matters to think of beside
bird-catching. I was, however, told a year later that two fine specimens
had been taken on the north-west coast of Upolu, that one had been
so injured in trapping that it died, and the other was liberated by a
mischievous child.

I have never heard one of these birds sound a note, but a native teacher
on Tutuila told me that in the mating season they utter a short, husky
hoot, more like a cough than the cry of a bird.

A full month after I first landed in Samoa, I was shooting in the
mountains at the back of the village of Tiavea in Upolu, when a large,
and to me unknown, bird rose from the leaf-strewn ground quite near me,
making almost as much noise in its flight as a hornbill. A native
who was with me, fired at the same time as I did, and the bird fell.
Scarcely had the native stooped to pick it up, exclaiming that it was a
_Manu Mea_ when a second appeared, half-running, half-flying along the
ground. This, alas! I also killed They were male and female, and my
companion and I made a search of an hour to discover their resting place
(it was not the breeding season), but the native said that the _Manu
Mea_ scooped out a retreat in a rotten tree or among loose stones,
covered with dry moss. But we searched in vain, nor did we even see any
wild yams growing about, so evidently the pair were some distance from
their home, or were making a journey in search of food.

During one of my trips on foot across Upolu, with a party of natives,
we sat down to rest on the side of a steep mountain path leading to the
village of Siumu. Some hundreds of feet below us was a comparatively
open patch of ground--an abandoned yam plantation, and just as we were
about to resume our journey, we saw two _Manu Mea_ appear. Keeping
perfectly quiet, we watched them moving about, scratching up the leaves,
and picking at the ground in an aimless, perfunctory sort of manner with
their heavy, thick bills. The natives told me that they were searching,
not for yams, but for a sweet berry called _masa\x92oi_, upon which the
wild pigeons feed.

In a few minutes the birds must have become aware of our presence, for
they suddenly vanished.

I have always regretted in connection with the two birds I shot, that
not only was I unaware of their value, even when dead, but that there
was then living in Apia a Dr. Forbes, medical officer to the staff of
the German factory. Had I sent them to him, he could have cured the
skins at least, for he was, I believe, an ardent naturalist.



CHAPTER XXIV ~ A NIGHT RUN ACROSS F\xC2GALOA BAY

When I was supercargo of the brig _Palestine_, we were one day beating
along the eastern shore of the great island of Tombara (New Ireland) or,
as it is now called by its German possessors, _Neu Mecklenburg_, when an
accident happened to one of our hands--a smart young A.B. named Rogers.
The brig was \x93going about\x94 in a stiff squall, when the jib-sheet block
caught poor Rogers in the side, and broke three of his ribs.

There were then no white men living on the east coast of New Ireland, or
we should have landed him there to recover, and picked him up again
on our return from the Caroline Islands, so we decided to run down
to Gerrit Denys Island, where we had heard there was a German doctor
living. He was a naturalist, and had been established there for over a
year, although the natives were as savage and warlike a lot as could be
found anywhere in Melanesia.

We reached the island, anchored, and the naturalist came on board. He
was not a professional-looking man. Here is my description, of him,
written fifteen years ago:--

\x93He was bootless, and his pants and many-pocketed jumper of coarse
dungaree were exceedingly dirty, and looked as if they had been cut out
with a knife and fork instead of scissors, they were so marvellously
ill-fitting. His head-gear was an ancient Panama hat, which flopped
about, and almost concealed his red-bearded face, as if trying to
apologise for the rest of his apparel; and the thin gold-rimmed
spectacles he wore made a curious contrast to his bare and sun-burnt
feet, which were as brown as those of a native. His manner, however, was
that of a man perfectly at ease with himself and his clear, steely blue
eyes, showed an infinite courage and resolution.\x94

At first he was very reluctant to have Rogers brought on shore, but
finally yielded, being at heart a good-natured man. So we bade Rogers
good-bye, made the doctor a present of some provisions, and a few cases
of beer, and told him we should be back in six weeks.

When we returned, Rogers came on board with the German. He was quite
recovered, and he and his host were evidently on very friendly terms,
and bade farewell to each other with some show of feeling.

After we had left the island, Rogers came aft, and told us his
experiences with the German doctor.

\x93He\x92s a right good sort of a chap, and treated me well, and did all he
could for me, sirs--but although he is a nice cove, I\x92m glad to get away
from him, and be aboard the brig again. For I can hardly believe that I
haven\x92t had a horrid, blarsted nightmare for the past six weeks.\x94

And then he shuddered.

\x93What was wrong with him, Rogers?\x94 asked the skipper.

\x93Why, he ain\x92t no naturalist--I mean like them butterfly-hunting coves
like you see in the East Indies. He\x92s a head-hunter--buys heads--fresh
\x91uns by preference, an\x92 smokes an\x92 cures \x91em hisself, and sells \x91em to
the museums in Europe. So help me God, sirs, I\x92ve seen him put fresh
human heads into a barrel of pickle, then he takes \x91em out after a
week or so, and cleans out the brains, and smokes the heads, and
sorter varnishes and embalms \x91em like. An\x92 when he wasn\x92t a picklin\x92 or
embalmin\x92 or varnishin\x92, he was a-writing in half a dozen log books.
I never knew what he was a-doin\x92 until one day I went into his
workshop--as he called it--and saw him bargaining with some niggers for
a fresh cut-off head, which he said was not worth much because the skull
was badly fractured, and would not set up well.

\x93He was pretty mad with me at first for comin\x92 in upon him, and
surprisin\x92 him like, but after a while he took me into his confidence,
and said as how he was engaged in a perfeckly legitimate business,
and as the heads was dead he was not hurtin\x92 \x91em by preparing \x91em for
museums and scientific purposes. And he says to me, \x91You English peoples
have got many peautiful preserved heads of the New Zealand Maories in
your museums, but ach, Gott, there is not in England such peautiful
heads as I haf mineself brebared here on dis islandt And already I haf
send me away fifty-seven, and in two months I shall haf brebared sixteen
more, for which I shall get me five hundred marks each.\x92\x94

Rogers told us that when he one day expressed his horror at his host\x92s
\x93business,\x94 the German retorted that it was only forty or fifty years
since that many English officials in the Australian colonies did a
remarkably good business in buying smoked Maori heads, and selling them
to the Continental museums. (This was true enough.) Rogers furthermore
told us that the doctor \x93cured\x94 his heads in a smoke-box, and had \x93a
regular chemist\x92s shop\x94 in which were a number of large bottles of
pyroligneous acid, prepared by a London firm.

This distinguished savant left Gerrit Denys Island about a year later in
a schooner bound for Singapore. She was found floating bottom up off
the Admiralty Group, and a Hong-Kong newspaper, in recording the event,
mentioned that \x93the unfortunate gentleman (Dr. Ludwig S------) had with
him an interesting and extremely valuable ethnographical collection \x93.

Rogers\x92s horrible story had a great interest for me; for it had been my
lot to see many human heads just severed from the body, and I was
always fascinated by the peculiar expression of the features of those
unfortunates who had been decapitated suddenly by one swift blow.
\x93Death,\x94 \x93Peace,\x94 \x93Immortality,\x94 say the closed eyelids and the calm,
quiet lips to the beholder.

I little imagined that within two years I should have a rather similar
experience to that of Rogers, though in my case it was a very brief one.
Yet it was all too long for me, and I shall always remember it as the
weirdest experience of my life.

I have elsewhere in this volume spoken of the affectionate regard I
have always had for the Samoan people, with whom I passed some of the
happiest years of my life. I have lived among them in peace and in war,
have witnessed many chivalrous and heroic deeds, and yet have seen
acts of the most terrible cruelty to the living, the mutilation and
dishonouring of the dead killed in combat, and other deeds that
filled me with horror and repulsion. And yet the perpetrators were all
professing Christians--either Protestant or Roman Catholic--and would no
more think of omitting daily morning and evening prayer, and attending
service in church or chapel every Sunday, than they would their daily
bathe in sea or river.

Always shall I remember one incident that occurred during the civil war
between King Malietoa and his rebel subjects at the town of Saluafata.
The _olo_ or trenches, of the king\x92s troops had been carried by the
rebels, among whom was a young warrior who had often distinguished
himself by his reckless bravery. At the time of the assault I was in the
rebel lines, for I was on very friendly terms with both sides, and each
knew that I would not betray the secrets of the other, and that my only
object was to render aid to the wounded.

This young man, Tolu, told me, before joining in the assault, that he
had a brother, a cousin, and an uncle in the enemy\x92s trenches, and that
he trusted he should not meet any one of them, for he feared that he
might turn _pala\x92ai_ (coward) and not \x93do his duty\x94. He was a Roman
Catholic, and had been educated by the Marist Brothers, but all his
relatives, with the exception of one sister, were Protestants--members
of the Church established by the London Missionary Society.

An American trader named Parter and I watched the assault, and saw the
place carried by the rebels, and went in after them. Among the dead was
Tolu, and we were told that he had shot himself in grief at having cut
down his brother, whom he did not recognise.

Now as to my own weird experience.

There had been severe fighting in the F\xE2galoa district of the Island of
Upolu, and many villages were in flames when I left the Port of Tiavea
in my boat for F\xE2galoa Bay, a few miles along the shore. I was then
engaged in making a trip along the north coast, visiting almost every
village, and making arrangements for the purchase of the coming crop
of copra (dried coco-nut). I was everywhere well received by both
Malietoa\x92s people and the rebels, but did but little business. The
natives were too occupied in fighting to devote much time to husking and
drying coco-nuts, except when they wanted to get money to buy arms and
ammunition.

My boat\x92s crew consisted of four natives of Savage Island (Niu\xE9),
many of whom are settled in Samoa, where they have ample employment
as boatmen and seamen. They did not at all relish the sound of bullets
whizzing over the boat, as we sometimes could not help crossing the line
of fire, and they had a horror of travelling at night-time, imploring me
not to run the risk of being slaughtered by a volley from the shore--as
how could the natives know in the darkness that we were not enemies.

F\xE2galoa Bay is deep, narrow and very beautiful. Small villages a few
miles apart may be seen standing in the midst of groves of coco-nut
palms, and orange, banana and bread-fruit trees, and everywhere bright
mountain streams of crystal water debouch into the lovely bay.

On Sunday afternoon I sailed into the bay and landed at the village of
Samamea on the east side, intending to remain for the night We found the
people plunged in grief--a party of rebels had surprised a village two
miles inland, and ruthlessly slaughtered all the inhabitants as well as
a party of nearly a score of visitors from the town of Salimu, on the
west side of the bay. So sudden was the onslaught of the rebels that
no one in the doomed village escaped except a boy of ten years of age.
After being decapitated, the bodies of the victims were thrown into the
houses, and the village set on fire.

The people of Samamea hurriedly set out to pursue the raiding rebels,
and an engagement ensued, in which the latter were badly beaten, and
fled so hurriedly that they had to abandon all the heads they had taken
the previous day in order to save their own.

The chief of Samamea, in whose house I had my supper, gave me many
details of the fighting, and then afterwards asked me if I would come
and look at the heads that had been recovered from the enemy. They
were in the \x93town house\x94 and were covered over with sheets of navy blue
cloth, or matting. A number of natives were seated round the house,
conversing in whispers, or weeping silently.

\x93These,\x94 said the chief to me, pointing to a number of heads placed
apart from the others, \x93are the heads of the Salimu people--seventeen in
all, men, women and three children. We have sent word to Salimu to the
relatives to come for them. I cannot send them myself, for no men can be
spared, and we have our own dead to attend to as well, and may ourselves
be attacked at any time.\x94\x92

A few hours later messengers arrived from Salimu. They had walked along
the shore, for the bay was very rough--it had been blowing hard for two
days--and, the wind being right ahead, they would not launch a canoe--it
would only have been swamped.

Taken to see the heads of their relatives and friends, the messengers
gave way to most uncontrollable grief, and their cries were so
distressing that I went for a walk on the beach--to be out of hearing.

When I returned to the village I found the visitors from Salimu and the
chief of Samamea awaiting to interview me. The chief, acting as their
spokeman, asked me if I would lend them my boat to take the heads of
their people to Salimu. He had not a single canoe he could spare, except
very small ones, which would be useless in such weather, whereas my
whaleboat would make nothing of it.

I could not refuse their request--it would have been ungracious of
me, and it only meant a half-hour\x92s run across the bay, for Salimu was
exactly abreast of Samamea. So I said I would gladly sail them over in
my boat at sunset, when I should be ready.

The heads were placed in baskets, and reverently carried down to the
beach, and placed in the boat, and with our lug-sail close reefed we
pushed off just after dark.

There were nine persons in the boat--the four Salimu people, my crew of
four and myself. The night was starlight and rather cold, for every now
and then a chilly rain squall would sweep down from the mountains.

As we spun along before the breeze no one spoke, except in low tones.
Our dreadful cargo was amidships, each basket being covered from view,
but every now and then the boat would ship some water, and when I told
one of my men to bale out, he did so with shuddering horror, for the
water was much blood-stained.

When we were more than half-way across, and could see the lights and
fires of Salimu, a rain squall overtook us, and at the same moment the
boat struck some floating object with a crash, and then slid over it,
and as it passed astern I saw what was either a log or plank about
twenty feet long.

\x93Boat is stove in, for\x92ard!\x94 cried one of my men, and indeed that was
very evident, for the water was pouring in--she had carried away her
stem, and started all the forward timber ends.

To have attempted to stop the inrush of water effectually would have
been waste, of time, but I called to my men to come aft as far as they
could, so as to let the boat\x92s head lift; and whilst two of them kept
on baling, the others shook out the reef in our lug, and the boat went
along at a great speed, half full of water as she was, and down by the
stern. The water still rushed in, and I told the Samoans to move the
baskets of heads farther aft, so that the men could bale out quicker.

\x93We\x92ll be all right in ten minutes, boys,\x94 I cried to my men, as I
steered; \x93I\x92ll run her slap up on the beach by the church.\x94

Presently one of the Samoans touched my arm, and said in a whisper that
we were surrounded by a swarm of sharks. He had noticed them, he said,
before the boat struck.

\x93They smell the bloodied water,\x94 he muttered.

A glance over the side filled me with terror. There were literally
scores of sharks, racing along on both sides of the boat, some almost on
the surface, others some feet down, and the phosphorescence of the water
added to the horror of the scene. At first I was in hopes that they were
harmless porpoises, but they were so close that some of them could have
been touched with one\x92s hand. Most fortunately I was steering with a
rudder, and not a steer oar. The latter would have been torn out of my
hands by the brutes--the boat have broached-to and we all have met with
a horrible death. Presently one of the weeping women noticed them, and
uttered a scream of terror.

\x93_Le malie, le malic!_\x94 (\x93The sharks, the sharks!\x94) she cried.

My crew then became terribly frightened, and urged me to let them throw
the baskets of heads overboard, but the Samoans became frantic at the
suggestion, all of them weeping.

So we kept on, the boat making good progress, although we could only
keep her afloat by continuous baling of the ensanguined water. In five
minutes more my heart leapt with joy--we were in shallow water, only a
cable length from Salimu beach, and then in another blinding rain squall
we ran on shore, and our broken bows ploughed into the sand, amid the
cries of some hundreds of natives, many of whom held lighted torches.

All of us in the boat were so overwrought that for some minutes we
were unable to speak, and it took a full bottle of brandy to steady the
nerves of my crew and myself. I shall never forget that night run across
F\xE2galoa Bay.



CHAPTER XXV ~ A BIT OF GOOD LUCK

Between the southern end of the great island of New Guinea and the
Solomon Group there is a cluster of islands marked on the chart as
\x93Woodlark Islands,\x94 but the native name is Mayu. Practically they were
not discovered until 1836, when the master of the Sydney sandal-wooding
barque _Woodlark_ made a survey of the group. The southern part of the
cluster consists of a number of small well-wooded islands, all inhabited
by a race of Papuans, who, said Captain Grimes of the _Woodlark_, had
certainly never before seen a white man, although they had long years
before seen ships in the far distance.

It was on these islands that I met with the most profitable bit of
trading that ever befel me during more than a quarter of a century\x92s
experience in the South Seas.

Nearly thirty years passed since Grimes\x92s visit without the natives
seeing more than half a dozen ships. These were American or Hobart Town
whalers, and none of them came to an anchor--they laid off and on,
and bartered with the natives for fresh provisions, but from the many
inquiries I made, I am sure that no one from these ships put foot on
shore; for the inhabitants were not to be trusted, being warlike, savage
and treacherous.

The master of one of these ships was told by the natives--or rather made
to understand, for no one of them knew a word of English--that about
twelve months previously a large vessel had run on shore one wild night
on the south side of the group and that all on board had perished.
Fourteen bodies had been washed on shore at a little island named Elaue,
all dreadfully battered about, and the ship herself had disappeared and
nothing remained of her but pieces of wreckage. She had evidently struck
on the reef near Elaue with tremendous violence, then slipped off and
sunk. The natives asked the captain to come on shore and be shown the
spot where the men had been buried, but he was too cautious a man to
trust himself among them.

On his reporting the matter to the colonial shipping authorities at
Sydney, he learned that two vessels were missing--one a Dutch barque of
seven hundred tons which left Sydney for Dutch New Guinea, and the other
a full-rigged English ship bound to Shanghai. No tidings had been heard
of them for over eighteen months, and it was concluded that the vessel
lost on Woodlark Island was one or the other, as that island lay in the
course both would have taken.

In 1868-69 there was a great outburst of trading operations in the
North-West Pacific Islands--then in most instances a _terra incognita_,
and there was a keen rivalry between the English and German trading
firms to get a footing on such new islands as promised them a lucrative
return for their ventures. Scores of adventurous white men lost their
lives in a few months, some by the deadly malarial fever, others by the
treacherous and cannibalistic savages. But others quickly took their
places--nothing daunted--for the coco-nut oil trade, the then staple
industry of the North-West Pacific, was very profitable and men made
fortunes rapidly. What mattered it if every returning ship brought news
of some bloody tragedy--such and such a brig or schooner having been cut
off and all hands murdered, cooked and eaten, the vessel plundered and
then burnt? Such things occur in the North-West Pacific in the present
times, but the outside world now hears of them through the press and
also of the punitive expeditions by war-ships of England, France or
Germany.

Then in those old days we traders would merely say to one another that
\x93So-and-So \x91had gone\x92\x94. He and his ship\x92s company had been cut off at
such-and-such a place, and the matter, in the eager rush for wealth,
would be forgotten.

At that time I was in Levuka--the old capital of Fiji--supercargo of a
little topsail schooner of seventy-five tons. She was owned and sailed
by a man named White, an extremely adventurous and daring fellow, though
very quiet--almost solemn--in his manner.

We had been trading among the windward islands of the Fiji Group for six
months and had not done at all well. White was greatly dissatisfied and
wanted to break new ground. Every few weeks a vessel would sail into the
little port of Levuka with a valuable cargo of coco-nut oil in casks,
dunnaged with ivory-nuts, the latter worth in those days \xA340 a ton. And
both oil and ivory-nuts had been secured from the wild savages of
the North-West in exchange for rubbishy hoop-iron knives, old \x93Tower\x94
 muskets with ball and cheap powder, common beads and other worthless
articles on which there was a profit of thousands per cent. (In fact, I
well remember one instance in which the master of the Sydney brig _E.
K. Bateson_, after four months\x92 absence, returned with a cargo which was
sold for \xA35,000. His expenses (including the value of the trade goods he
had bartered) his crew\x92s wages, provisions, and the wear and tear of the
ship\x92s gear, came to under \xA3400.)

White, who was a very wide-awake energetic man, despite his solemnity,
one day came on board and told me that he had made up his mind to join
in the rush to the islands to the North-West between New Guinea and the
Solomons.

\x93I have,\x94 he said, \x93just been talking to the skipper of that French
missionary brig, the _Anonyme_. He has just come back from the
North-West, and told me that he had landed a French priest{*} at Mayu
(Woodlark Island). He--the priest--remained on shore some days to
establish a mission, and told Rabalau, the skipper of the brig, that the
natives were very friendly and said that they would be glad to have
a resident missionary, but that they wanted a trader still more.
Furthermore, they have been making oil for over a year in expectation of
a ship coming, but none had come. And Rabalau says that they have over a
hundred tuns of oil, and can\x92t make any more as they have nothing to put
it in. Some of it is in old canoes, some in thousands of big bamboos,
and some in hollowed-out trees. And they have whips of ivory nuts and
are just dying to get muskets, tobacco and beads. And not a soul in
Levuka except Rabalau and I know it. You see, I lent him twenty bolts of
canvas and a lot of running gear last year, and now he wants to do me
a good turn. Now, I say that Woodlark is the place for us. Anyway, I\x92ve
bought all the oil casks I could get, and a lot more in shooks, and
so let us bustle and get ready to be out of this unholy Levuka at
daylight.\x94

     * This was Monseigneur d\x92Anthipelles the head of the Marist
     Brothers in Oceania.

*****

We did \x93bustle\x94. In twenty-four hours we were clear of Levuka reef and
spinning along to the W.N. W. before the strong south-east trade, for
our run of 1,600 miles. \x91Day and night the little schooner raced
over the seas at a great rate, and we made the passage in seven days,
dropping anchor off the largest village in the island--Guasap.

In ten minutes our decks were literally packed with excited natives, all
armed, but friendly. Had they chosen to kill us and seize the
schooner, it would have been an easy task, for we numbered only eight
persons--captain, mate, bos\x92un, four native seamen, and myself.

We learned from the natives that two months previously there had been a
terrible hurricane which lasted for three days and devastated two-thirds
of the islands. Thousands of coco-nut trees had been blown down, and the
sea had swept away many villages on the coast. So violent was the surf
that the wreck of the sunken ship on Elaue Island had been cast up in
fragments on the reef, and the natives had secured a quantity of iron
work, copper, and Muntz metal bolts. These articles I at once bargained
for, after I had seen the collection, and for two old Tower muskets,
value five shillings each, obtained the lot--worth \xA3250.

I had arranged with the chief and his head men to buy their oil in the
morning. And White and I found it hard to keep our countenances when
they joyfully accepted to fill every cask we had on the ship each for
twenty sticks of twist tobacco, a cupful of fine red beads and a fathom
of red Turkey twill! Or for five casks I would give a musket, a tin of
powder, twenty bullets, and twenty caps!

In ten minutes I had secured eighty tuns of oil (worth \xA330 a tun) for
trade goods that cost White less than \xA320. And the beauty of it was that
the natives were so impressed by the liberality of my terms that they
said they would supply the ship with all the fresh provisions--pigs,
fowls, turtle and vegetables that I asked for, without payment.

As White and I, after our palaver with the head men, were about to
return on board, we noticed two children who were wearing a number of
silver coins, strung on cinnet (coir) fibre, around their necks. We
called them to us, looked at the coins and found that they were rupees
and English five-shilling pieces.

I asked one of our Fijian seamen, who acted as interpreter, to ask the
children from where they got the coins.

\x93On the reef,\x94 they replied, \x93there are thousands of them cast up with
the wreckage of the ship that sank a long time ago. Most of them are
like these\x94--showing a five-shilling piece; \x93but there are much more
smaller ones like these,\x94--showing a rupee.

\x93Are there any _sama sama_ (yellow) ones?\x94 I asked.

No, they said, they had not found any _sama sama_ ones. But they could
bring me basketfuls of those like which they showed me.

White\x92s usually solemn eyes were now gleaming with excitement I drew him
and the Fiji man aside, and said to the latter quietly:--

\x93Sam, don\x92t let these people think that these coins are of any more
value than the copper bolts. Tell them that for every one hundred pieces
they bring on board--no matter what size they may be--I will give them
a cupful of fine red beads--full measure. Or, if they do not care for
beads, I will give two sticks of tobacco, or a six-inch butcher knife of
good, hard steel.\x94

(The three last words made White smile--and whisper to me, \x93\x91A good,
hard steal\x92 some people would say--but not me\x94.)

\x93And Sam,\x94 I went on, \x93you shall have an _alofa_ (present) of two
hundred dollars if you manage this carefully, and don\x92t let these people
think that we particularly care about these pieces of soft white metal.
We came to Mayu for oil--understand?\x94

Sam did understand: and in a few minutes every boy and girl in Guasap
were out on the reef picking up the money. That day they brought us
over \xA3200 in English and Indian silver, together with about \xA312 in Dutch
coins. (From this latter circumstance White and I concluded that the
wrecked vessel was the missing Dutch barque.)

On the following morning the reef at low tide presented an extraordinary
spectacle. Every woman, boy and girl from Guasap and the adjacent
villages were searching for the coins, and their clamour was terrific.
Whilst all this was going on, White, and the mate, and crew were
receiving the oil from the shore, putting it into our casks, driving
the hoops, and stowing them in the hold, working in such a state of
suppressed excitement that we were unable to exchange a word with each
other, for as each cask was filled I, on the after-deck, paid for it,
shunted off the seller, and took another one in hand.

At four o\x92clock in the afternoon we ceased work on board and went on
shore to \x93buy money\x94.

The village square was crowded with women and children, every one of
whom had money--mostly in English five-shilling pieces. Some of these
coins were bent and twisted into the most curious shape, some were
imbedded in lumps of coral, and nearly all gave evidence of the terrific
fury of the seas which had cast them up upon the reef from a depth of
seven fathoms of water. Many were merely round lumps, having been rolled
over and over among the sand and coral. These I demurred to accepting
on the terms agreed upon for undamaged coins, and the natives cheerfully
agreed to my decision.

That day we bought silver coin, damaged and undamaged, to the value of
\xA3350, for trade goods worth about \xA317 or \xA318.

And for the following two weeks, whilst White and our crew were
hammering and coopering away at the oil casks, and stowing them under
hatches, I was paying out the trade goods for the oil, and \x93buying
money\x94.

We remained at Mayu for a month, until there was no more money to be
found--except a few coins (or rather what had once been coins); and then
with a ship full of oil, and with \xA32,100 worth of money, we left and
sailed for Sydney.

White sold the money _en bloc_ to the Sydney mint for \xA31,850. The oil
realised \xA32,400, and the copper, etc., \xA3250. My share came to over
\xA3400--exclusive of four months\x92 wages--making nearly \xA3500. This was the
best bit of trading luck that I ever met with.

I must add that even up to 1895 silver coins from the Dutch barque were
still being found by the natives of Woodlark Islands.



CHAPTER XXVI ~ MODERN PIRATES

Piracy, as most people are aware, is not yet quite extinct in Chinese
and East Indian waters, despite the efforts that have been made to
utterly stamp it out. But it is not generally known that along the
shores of Dutch New Guinea, on both sides of the great island, there are
still vigorous communities of native pirates, who will not hesitate to
attack even armed trading vessels. These savages combine the business
of head-hunting with piracy, and although they do not possess modern
firearms, and their crafts are simply huge canoes, they show the most
determined courage, even when attacking a vessel manned by Europeans.

The annual reports of the Governors of Dutch, German and British New
Guinea, detailing the murderous doings of these head-hunting pirates,
are as interesting reading as the tales of Rajah Brooke and Stamford
Raffles, and the practical suppression of piracy in the East Indian
Archipelago, but seldom attract more than a few lines of comment in the
public press.

In writing of pirates of the present day, I shall not go beyond my own
beat of the North and South Pacific, and speak only of events within my
own personal knowledge and observation. Before entering into an account
of some of the doings of the New Guinea \x93Tugeri,\x94 or head-hunter
pirates, I shall tell the story of two notable acts of piracy committed
by white men in the South Pacific, less than ten years ago. The English
newspapers gave some attention to one case, for the two principal
criminals concerned were tried at Brest, and the case was known as the
\x93Rorique tragedy\x94. Much comment was made on the statement that the King
of the Belgians went to France, after the prisoners had been sentenced
to death (they were Belgian), to personally intercede for them. The
French press stigmatised His Majesty\x92s action as a scandal (one journal
suggesting that perhaps the pirates were pretty women in men\x92s garb);
but no doubt King Leopold is a very tender-hearted man, despite the
remarks of unkind English people on the subject of the eccentricities
of the Belgian officers in the Congo Free State--such as cutting off
the hands of a few thousands of stupid negroes who failed to bring
in sufficient rubber. There are even people who openly state that the
Sultan of Turkey dislikes Armenians, and has caused some of them to be
hurt. But I am getting away from my subject The story of the Roriques,
and the tragedy of the _Niuroahiti_ which was the name of the vessel
they seized, is one of the many grisly episodes with which the history
of the South Seas is so prolific. Briefly it is as follows:--

About the end of 1891 the two brothers arrived at Papeite, the capital
of Tahiti, from the Paumotu Group, where, it was subsequently learned,
they had been put on shore by the captain of an island trader, who
strongly suspected them of plotting with the crew to murder him and
seize the ship. Nothing of this incident, however, was known at Tahiti
among the white residents with whom they soon ingratiated themselves;
they were exceedingly agreeable-mannered men, and the elder brother,
who was a remarkably handsome man of about thirty-five, was an excellent
linguist, speaking German, French, Italian, English, Dutch, Spanish and
Zulu fluently. Although they had with them no property beyond firearms,
their _bonhomie_ and the generally accepted belief that they were men
of means, made them the recipients of much hospitality and kindness.
Eventually the younger man was given a position as a trader on one of
the pearl-shell lagoon islands in the Paumotu Group, while the other
took the berth of mate in the schooner _Niuroahiti_, a smart little
native-built vessel owned by a Tahitian prince. The schooner was under
the command of a half-caste, and her complement consisted, besides the
captain, of Mr. William Gibson, the supercargo, Rorique the first mate,
a second mate, four Society Island natives, and the cook, a Frenchman
named Hippolyte Miret. The _Niuroahiti_ traded between Tahiti and the
Paumotus, and when she sailed on her last voyage she was bound to the
Island of Kaukura, where the younger Rorique was stationed as trader.
She never returned, but it was ascertained that she had called at
Kaukura, and then left again with the second brother Rorique as
passenger.

Long, long months passed, and the Australian relatives and friends of
young Gibson, a cheery, adventurous young fellow, began to think, with
the owner of the _Niuroakiti_, that she had met a fate common enough in
the South Sea trade--turned turtle in a squall, and gone to the bottom
with all hands.

About this time I was on a trading cruise in the Caroline Islands, and
one day we spoke a Fiji schooner. I went on board for a chat with the
skipper, and told him of the _Niuroakiti_ affair, of which I had heard a
month before.

\x93By Jove,\x94 he exclaimed, \x93I met a schooner exactly like her about ten
days ago. She was going to the W.N.W.--Ponap\xEA way--and showed French
colours. I bore up to speak her, but she evidently didn\x92t want it,
hoisted her squaresail and stood away.\x94

From this I was sure that the vessel was the _Niuroakiti_, and therefore
sent a letter to the Spanish governor at Ponap\xEA, relating the affair. It
reached him just in time.

The _Niuroakiti_ was then lying in Jakoits harbour in Ponap\xE9, and was
to sail on the following day for Macao. She was promptly seized, and the
brothers Rorique put in irons, and taken on board the Spanish cruiser
_Le Gaspi_ for conveyance to Manila Hippolyte Miret, the cook, confessed
to the Spanish authorities that the brothers Rorique had shot dead
in their sleep the captain, Mr. Gibson, the second mate, and the four
native sailors.

The trial was a long one, but the evidence was most damning and
convincing, although the brothers passionately declared that Miret\x92s
story was a pure invention. Sentence of death was passed, but was
afterwards commuted to imprisonment for life, and the Roriques are now
in chains in Cayenne.

The second case was of a very dreadful character, and has an additional
interest from the fact that out of all the participators--the pirates
and their victims--only one was left alive to tell the tale, and he was
found in a dying condition on one of the Galapagos Islands, and only
lived a few days. The story was told to me by the captain of the
brigantine _Isaac Revels_, of San Francisco, who put into the Galapagos
to repair his ship, which had started a butt-end and was leaking
seriously. He had just anchored between Narborough and Albemarle Islands
when he saw a man sitting on the shore, and waving his hands to the
ship. A boat was lowered, and the man brought on board. He was in a
ravenous state of hunger, and half-demented; but after he had been
carefully attended to he was able to give some account of himself.
He was a young Colombian Indian, could speak no English, and only a
mongrel, halting kind of Spanish. The Portuguese cook of the Isaac
Revels, however, understood him. This was his story:--

He was one of the peons of a wealthy Ecuadorian gentleman, who with
another equally rich friend sailed from Guayaquil for the Galapagos
Islands (which belong to Ecuador), and the largest of which,
Albemarle Island, they had leased from that Government for sheep and
cattle-breeding. They took with them a few thousand silver dollars,
which the peon saw placed in \x93an iron box\x94 (safe).

One of the merchants had with him his two young daughters. The vessel
was a small brig, and the captain and crew mostly Chilenos. One night,
when the brig was half-way across to the Galapagos (600 miles from
Ecuador) the peon, who was on deck asleep, was suddenly seized, pitched
down into the fo\x92c\x92stle, and the scuttle closed. Here he was left alone
until dawn, and then ordered on deck, aft. The captain pointed a pistol
at his head, and threatened to shoot him dead if he ever spoke of what
had happened in the night. The man--although he knew nothing of what had
happened--promised to be secret, and was then given fifty dollars, and
put in the mate\x92s watch. He saw numerous blood-stains on the after-deck,
and soon after was told by one of the hands that all the four passengers
had been murdered, and thrown overboard. The captain, mate and four men,
it appeared, had first made ready a boat, provisioned, and lowered it
They made some noise, which aroused the male passengers, one of whom
came on deck to see what was the matter. He was at once seized, but
being a very powerful man, made a most determined fight. His friend
rushed up from below with a revolver in his hand, and shot two of the
assailants dead, and wounded the mate. But they were assailed on
all sides--shot at and struck with various weapons, and then thrown
overboard to drown. Then the pirates, after a hurried consultation, went
below, and forcing open the girls\x92 cabin door, ruthlessly shot them,
carried them on deck, and cast them over the side. It had been their
intention to have sent all four away in the boat, but the resistance
made so enraged them that they murdered them instead.

For some days the pirates kept on a due west course towards the
Galapagos. A barrel of spirits was broached, and night and day captain
and crew were drunk. When Albemarle Island was sighted, every one
except the peon and a boy was more or less intoxicated. A boat had been
lowered, and was towing astern--for what purpose the peon did not
know. At night it fell a dead calm, and a strong current set the brig
dangerously close in shore. The captain ordered some of the hands
into her to tow the brig out of danger; they refused, and shots were
exchanged, but after a while peace was restored. The peon and the boy
were then told to get into the boat, and bale her out, as she was leaky.
They did so, and whilst so engaged a sudden squall struck the brig, and
the boat\x92s towline either parted, or was purposely cast off.

When the squall cleared, the peon and boy in the drifting boat could
see nothing whatever of the brig--she had probably capsized--and the two
unfortunate beings soon after daylight found themselves so close to
the breakers on Narborough Island that they were unable to pull her
clear--she being very heavy. She soon struck, and was rolled over and
over, and the Chileno boy drowned. The peon also received internal
injuries, but managed to reach the shore.

The people on board the _Isaac Revels_ did all they could for the poor
fellow, but he only survived a few days.

In another article in this volume I have told of my fruitless efforts to
induce some of the Rook Island cannibals to \x93recruit\x94 with me. It was on
that voyage I first saw a party of New Guinea head-hunting pirates, and
I shall never forget the experience.

After leaving Rook Island, we stood over to the coast of German New
Guinea, and sailed along it for three hundred miles to the Dutch
boundary (longitude 141 east of Greenwich) for we were in hopes of
getting a full cargo of native labourers from some of the many islands
which stud the coast. No other \x93labour\x94 ship had ever been so far north,
and Morel (the skipper) and I were keenly anxious to find a new ground.
We had a fine vessel, with a high freeboard, a well-armed and splendid
crew, and had no fear of being cut off by the natives. (I may here
mention that I was grievously disappointed, for owing to the lack of
a competent interpreter I failed to get a single recruit But in other
respects the voyage was a success, for I did some very satisfactory
trading business)

After visiting many of the islands, we anchored in what is now named
in the German charts Krauel Bay, on the mainland. There were a few
scattered villages on the shore, and some of the natives boarded us.
They were all well-armed, with their usual weapons, but were very shy,
distrustful and nervous.

Early one morning five large canoes appeared in the offing--evidently
having come from the Schouten Islands group, about ten miles to the
eastward. The moment they were seen by the natives on shore, the
villages were abandoned, and the people fled into the bush.

In a most gallant style the five canoes came straight into the bay, and
brought-to within a few hundred fathoms of our ship, and the first thing
we noticed was a number of decapitated heads hanging over the sides of
each craft, as boat-fenders are hung over the gunwale of a boat. This
was intended to impress the White Men.

We certainly were impressed, but were yet quite ready to make short work
of our visitors if they attempted mischief. Our ship\x92s high freeboard
alone would have made it very difficult for them to rush us, and the
crew were so well-armed that, although we numbered but twenty-eight, we
could have wiped out over five hundred possible assailants with ease had
they attempted to board and capture the ship.

Some of the leaders of this party of pirates came on board our vessel,
and Morel and I soon established very friendly relations with them. They
told us that they had been two months out from their own territory (in
Dutch New Guinea) had raided over thirty villages, and taken two hundred
and fifteen heads, and were now returning home--well satisfied.

Morel and I went on board one of the great canoes, and were received in
a very friendly manner, and shown many heads--some partly dried, some
too fresh, and unpleasant-looking.

These head-hunting pirates were not cannibals, and behaved in an
extremely decorous manner when they visited our ship. A finer, more
stalwart, proud, self-possessed, and dignified lot of savages--if they
could be so termed--I had never before seen.

They left Krauel bay two days later, without interfering with the people
on shore, and Morel and I shook hands, and rubbed noses with the leading
head-hunters, when we said farewell.



CHAPTER XXVII ~ PAUT\xD4E

\x93Please, good White Man, wilt have me for _tavini_ (servant)?\x94

Marsh, the trader, and the Reverend Harry Copley, the resident
missionary on Motumoe, first looked at the speaker, then at each other,
and then laughed hilariously.

A native girl, about thirteen years of age, was standing in the trader\x92s
doorway, clad only in a girdle of many-hued dracaena leaves. Her long,
glossy black hair fell about her smooth red-brown shoulders like
a mantle, and her big, deer-like eyes were filled with an eager
expectancy.

\x93Come hither, Paut\xF4e,\x94 said the missionary, speaking to the girl in the
bastard Samoan dialect of the island. \x93And so thou dost want to become
servant to Marsi?\x94

Paut\xF4e\x92s eyes sparkled.

\x93Aye,\x94 she replied, \x93I would be second _tavini_ to him. No wages do I
want, only let him give me my food, and a mat upon which to sleep, and I
shall do much work for him--truly, much work.\x94

The missionary drew her to him and patted her shoulder.

\x93Dost like sardines, Paut\xF4e?\x94

She clasped her hands over her bosom, and looked at him demurely from
underneath her beautiful long-lashed eyes, and then her red lips parted
and she showed her even, pearly teeth as she smiled.

\x93Give her a tin of sardines, and a biscuit or two, Marsh,\x94 said the
parson, \x93she\x92s one of my pupils at the Mission House. You remember Bret
Harte\x92s story, _The Right Eye of the Spanish Commander_, and the little
Indian maid Paquita? Well, this youngster is my Paquita. She\x92s a most
intelligent girl.\x94 He paused a moment and then added regretfully:
\x93Unfortunately my wife dislikes her intensely--thinks she\x92s too forward.
As a matter of fact a more lovable child never breathed.\x94

Marsh nodded. He was not surprised at Mrs. Copley disliking the child,
for she--a thin, sharp-vis-aged and austere lady of forty years of
age--was childless, and older than her cheerful, kind-hearted husband
by twelve years. The natives bore her no love, and had given her the
contemptuous nickname of _Le Matua moa e le fua_--\x93the eggless old
hen\x94.

Marsh himself told me this story. He and I had been shipmates together
in many cruises until he tired of the sea, and, having saved a little
money, started business as a trader among the Equatorial Islands--and I
lost a good comrade and friend.

\x93I wish you would take the child, Marsh,\x94 said the missionary presently.
\x93She is an orphan, and----\x94

\x93I\x92ll take her, of course. She can help Leota, I daresay, and I\x92ll
give her a few dollars a month. But why isn\x92t she dressed in the usual
flaming style of your other pupils--skirt, blouse, brown paper-soled
boots, and a sixpenny poke bonnet with artificial flowers, and
otherwise made up as one of the \x91brands plucked from the burning\x92 whose
photographs glorify the parish magazines in the old country?\x94

Copley\x92s blue-grey eyes twinkled. \x93Ah, that\x92s the rub with my wife.
Paut\xF4e won\x92t \x91put \x91em on\x92. She is not a native of this island, as you
can no doubt see. Look at her now--almost straight nose, but Semitic,
thin nostrils, long silky hair, small hands and feet. Where do you think
she hails from?\x94

\x93Somewhere to the eastward--Marquesas Group, perhaps.\x94

\x93That is my idea, too. Do you know her story?\x94

\x93No. Who is she?\x94

\x93Ah, that no one knows. Early one morning twelve or thirteen years
ago--long before I came here--the natives saw a small topsail-schooner
becalmed off the island. Several canoes put off, and the people, as
they drew near the vessel, were surprised and alarmed to see a number of
armed men on deck, one of whom hailed them, and told them not to come
on board, but that one canoe only might come alongside. But the natives
hesitated, till the man stooped down and then held up a baby girl about
a year old, and said:--

\x93\x91If you will take this child on shore and care for it I will give you a
case of tobacco, a bag of bullets, two muskets and a keg of powder,
some knives, axes and two fifty-pound tins of ship biscuit. The child\x92s
mother is dead, and there is no woman on board to care for it.\x92

\x93For humanity\x92s sake alone the natives would have taken the infant,
and said so, but at the same time they did not refuse the offer of the
presents. So one of the canoes went alongside, the babe was passed down,
and then the presents. Then the people were told to shove off. A few
hours later a breeze sprang up, and the schooner stood away to the
westward. That was how the youngster came here.\x94

\x93I wonder what had occurred?\x94

\x93A tragedy of some sort--piracy and murder most likely. One of the
natives named Rahili who went out to the vessel, was an ex-sailor, who
spoke and could also read and write English well, and he noticed that
although the schooner was much weather-worn as if she had been a long
while at sea, there was a newly-painted name on her stern--_Meta_.
That in itself was suspicious. I sent an account of the affair to the
colonial papers, but nothing was known of any vessel named the _Meta_.
Since then the child had lived first with one family, and then another.
As I have said, she is extremely intelligent, but has a curiously
independent spirit--\x91refractory\x92 my wife calls it--and does not
associate with the other native girls. One day, not long ago, she got
into serious trouble through her temper getting the better of her.
Lisa, my native assistant\x92s daughter is, as I daresay you know, a very
conceited, domineering young lady, and puts on very grand airs--all
these native teachers and their wives and daughters are alike with
regard to the \x91side\x92 they put on--and my wife has made so much of her
that the girl has become a perfect female prig. Well, it seems that
Paut\xF4e refused to attend my wife\x92s sewing class (which Lisa bosses)
saying that she was going out on the reef to get crayfish. Thereupon
Lisa called her a _laakau tafea_ (a log of wood that had drifted on
shore) and Paut\xF4e, resenting the insult and the jeers and laughter
of the other children, seized Mademoiselle Lisa by the hair, tore her
blouse off her and called her \x91a fat-faced, pig-eyed monster\x92.\x94

Marsh laughed. \x93Description terse, but correct.\x94

\x93The deacons expelled her from school, and ordered her a whipping, but
the chief and I interfered, and stopped it.\x94

The trader nodded approval. \x93Of course you did, Copley; just what
any one who knows you would expect you to do. But although I am quite
willing to give the child a home, I can\x92t be a schoolmaster to her.\x94

\x93Of course not. You are doing more than any other man would do for her.\x94

Twelve months had passed, and Marsh had never had reason to regret his
kindness to the orphan. To him she was wonderfully gentle and obedient,
and from the very first had acceded to his wish to dress herself in
semi-European fashion. The trader\x92s household consisted of himself and
his two servants, a Samoan man named \xC2li (Harry) and his wife, Leota.
For some years they had followed his fortunes as a trader in the South
Seas, and both were intensely devoted to him. A childless couple, Marsh
at first had feared that they would resent the intrusion of Paut\xF4e into
his home But he was mistaken; for both \xC2li and Leota had but one motive
for existence, and that was to please him--the now grown man, who eleven
years before, when he was a mere youth, had run away from his ship in
Samoa, and they had hidden him from pursuit And then when \x93Tikki\x94 (Dick)
Marsh, by his industrious habits, was enabled to begin life as a trader,
they had come with him, sharing his good and his bad luck with him, and
serving him loyally and devotedly in his wanderings throughout the Isles
of the Pacific. So, when Paut\xF4e came they took her to themselves as
a matter of duty; then, as they began to know the girl, and saw the
intense admiration she had for Marsh, they loved her, and took her deep
into their warm hearts. And Paut\xF4e would sometimes tell them that she
knew not whom she loved most--\x93Tikki\x94 or themselves.

Matters, from a business point of view, had not for two years prospered
with Marsh on Motumoe. Successive seasons of drought had destroyed the
cocoanut crop, and so one day he told Copley, who keenly sympathised
with him, that he must leave the island. This was a twelvemonth after
Paut\xF4e had come to stay with him.

\x93I shall miss you very much, Marsh,\x94 said the missionary, \x93miss you more
than you can imagine. My monthly visits to you here have been a great
solace and pleasure to me. I have often wished that, instead of being
thirty miles apart, we were but two or three, so that I could have come
and seen you every few days.\x94

Then he added: \x93Poor little Paut\xF4e will break her heart over your going
away\x94.

\x93But I have no intention of leaving her behind, Copley. I am not so hard
pressed that I cannot keep the youngster. I am thinking of putting her
to school in Samoa for a few years.\x94

\x93That is very generous of you, Marsh. I would have much liked to have
taken her into my own house, but--my wife, you know.\x94

Two weeks later Marsh left the island in an American whaleship, which
was to touch at Samoa There he intended to buy a small cutter, and then
proceed to the Western Pacific, where he hoped to better his fortunes
by trading throughout the various islands of the wild New Hebrides and
Solomon Groups.

During the voyage to Samoa he one day asked Paut\xF4e if she would not like
to go to school in Samoa with white and half-caste girls, some of her
own age, and others older.

Such an extraordinary change came over the poor child\x92s face that Marsh
was astounded. For some seconds she did not speak, but breathed quickly
and spasmodically as if she were physically exhausted, then her whole
frame trembled violently. Then a sob broke from her.

\x93Be not angry with me, Tikki,... but I would rather die than stay in
Samoa,... away from thee and Ali and Leota. Oh, master----\x94 she ceased
speaking and sobbed so unrestrainedly that Marsh was moved. He waited
till she had somewhat calmed herself, and then said gravely:--

\x93\x91Twill be a great thing for thee, Paut\xF4e, this school. Thou wilt be
taught much that is good, and the English lady who has the school will
be kind----\x94

\x93Nay, nay, Tikki,\x94 she cried brokenly, \x93send me not away, I beseech
thee. Let me go with thee, and \xC2li and Leota, to those new, wild lands.
Oh, cast me not away from thee. Where thou goest, let me go.\x94

Marsh smiled. \x93Thou art another Ruth, little one. In such words did Ruth
speak to Naomi when she went to another country. Dost know the story?\x94

\x93Aye, I know the story, and I have no fear of wild lands. Only have I
fear of seeing no more all those I love if thou dost leave me to die in
Samoa.\x94

Again the trader smiled as he bade her dry her tears.

\x93Thou shalt come with us, little one Now, go tell Leota.\x94

For many months Marsh remained in Apia, unable to find a suitable
vessel. Then, not caring to remain in such a noisy and expensive
port--he rented a native house at a charmingly situated village called
Laulii, about ten miles from Apia, and standing at the head of a tiny
bay, almost landlocked by verdant hills. So much was he pleased with the
place, that he half formed a resolution to settle there permanently, or
at least for a year or two.

\xC2li and Leota were delighted to learn this, for although they were
willing to go anywhere in the world with their beloved \x93Tikki,\x94 they,
like all Samoans, were passionately fond of their own beautiful land,
with its lofty mountains and forests, and clear running streams.

And Paut\xF4e, too, was intensely happy, for to her Samoa was a dream-land
of light and beauty. Never before had she seen mountains, except in
pictures shown her by Mr. Copley or Marsh, and never before had she
seen a stream of running water. For Motumoe, where she had lived all
her young life, was an atoll--low, flat, and sandy, and although densely
covered with coco palms, there were but few other trees of any height
And now, in Samoa, she was never tired of wandering alone in the deep,
silent forest, treading with ecstasy the thick carpet of fallen leaves,
gazing upwards at the canopy of branches, and listening with a thrilled
delight to the booming notes of the great blue-plumaged, red-breasted
pigeons, and the plaintive answering cries of the ring-doves. Then, too,
in the forest at the back of the village were ruins of ancient dwellings
of stone, build by hands unknown, preserved from decay by a binding
net-work of ivy-like creepers and vines, and the haunt and resting-place
of the wild boar and his mate, and their savage, quick-footed progeny.
And sometimes she would hear the shrill, cackling scream of a wild
mountain cock, and see the great, fierce-eyed bird, half-running,
half-flying over the leaf-strewn ground. And to her the forest became a
deep and holy mystery, to adore and to love.

Quite near to Laulii was another village--Lautonga, in which there lived
a young American trader named Lester Meredith--like Marsh, an ex-sailor.
He was an extremely reserved, quiet man, but he and Marsh soon became
friends, and they exchanged almost daily visits. Meredith, like Marsh,
was an unmarried man, and one day the local chief of the district
jocularly reproached them.

\x93Thou, Tikki, art near to two-score years, and yet hast no wife, and
thou, Lesta, art one score and five and yet live alone. Why is it so? Ye
are both fine, handsome men, and pleasing to the eyes of women.\x94

Marsh laughed. \x93O Tofia, thou would-be matchmaker! I am no marrying man.
Once, indeed, I gave my heart to a woman in mine own country of England,
but although she loved me, her people were both rich and proud, and I
was poor. So she became wife to another man.\x94

Paut\xF4e, who was listening intently to the men\x92s talk, set her white
teeth, and clenched her shapely little hands, and then said slowly:--

\x93Didst kill the other man, Tikki?\x94

Marsh and Meredith both laughed, and the former shook his head, and then
Tofia turned to Meredith:--

\x93Lesta, hast never thought of Maliea, the daughter of Tonu? There is no
handsomer girl in Samoa, and she is of good family. And she would like
to marry thee.\x94

Meredith smiled, and then said jestingly, \x93Nay, Tofia, I care not for
Maliea. I shall wait for Paut\xF4e. Wilt have me, little one?\x94

The girl looked at him steadily, and then answered gravely:--

\x93Aye, if Tikki is willing that I should. But yet I will not be separated
from him.\x94

\x93Then you and I will have to become partners, Meredith,\x94 said Marsh, his
eyes twinkling with amusement.

A few days after this Meredith returned from a visit to Apia.

\x93Marsh,\x94 he said to his friend, \x93I think it would be a good thing for us
both if we really did go into partnership, and put our little capitals
together. Are you so disposed?\x94

\x93Quite. There is nothing I should like better.\x94

\x93Good. Well, now I have some news. I have just been looking at a little
schooner in Apia harbour. She arrived a few days ago, leaking, and
the owner will sell her for $ 1,800. She will suit us very well. I
overhauled her, and except that she is old and leaks badly, from having
been ashore, she is well worth the money. You and I can easily put her
on the beach here, get at the leak, and recopper her at a cost of a few
hundred dollars. We can have her ready for sea in three weeks. You, \xC2li
and myself can do all the work ourselves.\x94

Marsh was delighted, and in less than an hour the two men, accompanied
by \xC2li and Tofia, were on the way to Apia, much to the wonder of Leota
and Paut\xF4e, who were not then let into the secret--the newly-made
partners intending to give them a pleasant surprise.

On boarding the little craft, Marsh was much pleased with her, and
during the day the business of transferring the vessel to her new owners
was completed at the American Consulate, the money paid over, and the
partners put in possession.

The same evening, \xC2li, a splendid diver, succeeded in finding and partly
stopping the main leak, which was on the bilge on the port side, and
preparations were made to sail early in the morning for Laulii.

The partners were seated in the little cabin, smoking, and talking over
their plans for the future, when the former master and owner of the
schooner came on board to see, as he said, \x93how they were getting on\x94.

He was a good-natured, intelligent old man, and had had a life-long
experience in the South Seas. By birth he was a Genoese, but he was
intensely proud of being a naturalised British subject, and, from his
youth, having sailed under the red ensign of Old England. Marsh and
Meredith made him very welcome, and he, being mightily pleased at having
sold _The Dove_ (as the schooner was called), and also having dined
exceedingly well at the one hotel then in Apia, became very talkative.

\x93I can tell you, gentlemen, that _The Dove_, although she is not a new
ship, is as strong and sound as if she were only just built. I have had
her now for nearly thirteen years, and have made my little fortune by
her, and I could kiss her, from the end of her jibboom to the upper
rudder gudgeon. But I am an old man now, and want to go back to my own
country to die among my people--or else\x94--and here he twisted his long
moustaches and laughed hilariously--\x93settle down in England, and become
a grand man like old General Rosas of South America, and die pious, and
have a bishop and a mile-long procession at my funeral.\x94

The partners joined the old sailor in his laugh, and then Marsh said
casually, and to make conversation:--

\x93By-the-way, Captain, where did you buy _The Dove?_\x94

\x93I didn\x92t buy her, my bold breezy lads. And I didn\x92t steal her, as many
a ship is stolen in the South Seas. I came by her honestly enough.\x94

\x93A present?\x94 said Meredith interrogatively.

\x93Wrong, my lad--neither was she a present\x94 Then the ancient squared
his broad shoulders, helped himself to some refreshment (more than was
needed for his good) and clapping Marsh on the shoulder, said: \x93I\x92ll
tell you the yarn, my lads--for you are only lads, aren\x92t you? Well,
here it is:--

\x93About twelve or thirteen years ago I was mate of a San Francisco
trading brig, the _Lola Montez_, and one afternoon, when we were running
down the east coast of New Caledonia, we sighted a vessel drifting in
shore--this very same schooner. The skipper of the brig sent me with a
boat\x92s crew to take possession of her--for we could see that no one was
on board.

\x93I boarded her and found that her decks had been swept by a heavy
sea--which, I suppose, had carried away every one on board. I overhauled
the cabin, but could not find her papers, but her name was on the
stern--_Meta_.\x94

Marsh started, and was about to speak, but the old skipper went on:--

\x93During the night heavy weather came on, and the _Lola Montez_ and the
_Meta_ parted company. The _Lola_ was never heard of again--she was old
and as rotten as an over-ripe pear, and I suppose her seams opened, and
she went down.

\x93So I stuck to the _Meta_ brought her to Sydney, and re-named her _The
Dove_. And she\x92s a bully little ship, I can tell you. I think that she
was built in the Marquesas Islands, for all her knees and stringers are
of _ngiia_ wood (_lignum vitae_) cut in the Marquesan fashion, and
set so closely together that any one would think she was meant for a
Greenland whaler. Then there is another thing about her that you will
notice, and which makes me feel sure that she was built by a whaleman,
and that is the carvings of whales on each end of the windlass barrel,
and on every deck stanchion there are the same, although you can hardly
see them now--they are so much covered up by yearly coatings of paint
for over a dozen years.\x94

Meredith rose suddenly from his seat. \x93You\x92ll excuse me, but I feel
tired, and must turn in.\x94 The visitor took the hint, and did not stay.
Wishing the partners good luck, he got into his boat, and pushed off for
the shore. Then Meredith turned to Marsh, and said quietly:--\x93Marsh, I
know that you can trust \xC2li, but what of Tofia?\x94

\x93He\x92s all right, I think. But what is the matter?\x94 \x93I\x92ll let you know
presently. But first tell Tofia that he had better go on shore to
sleep. You and I are going to have a quiet talk, and then do a little
overhauling of this cabin.\x94

Wondering what possibly was afoot, Marsh got rid of the friendly chief
by asking him to go on shore and buy some fresh provisions, but not to
trouble about bringing them off until daylight, as he and his partner
were tired, and wanted to turn in.

Leaving \xC2li on deck to keep watch, the two men went below, and sat down
at the cabin table.

\x93Marsh,\x94 began the young American, \x93I have a mighty queer yarn to tell
you--I know that this schooner, once the _Meta_, and now _The Dove_, was
originally the _Juliette_, and was built by my father at Nukahiva in the
Marquesas. Now, I\x92ll get through the story as quickly as possible, but
as I don\x92t want to be interrupted I\x92ll ask \xC2li not to let any chance
visitor come aboard to-night.\x94

He went on deck, and on returning first filled and lit his pipe in his
cool, leisurely manner, and resumed his story.

\x93My father, as I one day told you, was a whaling skipper, and was lost
at sea about thirteen years ago--that is all I ever did say about him, I
think. He was a hard old man, and there was no love between us, so that
is why I have not spoken of him. He used me very roughly, and when
my mother died I left him after a stormy scene. That was eighteen or
nineteen years ago, and I never saw him again.

\x93When my poor mother died, he sold his ship and went to the Marquesas
Islands, and opened a business there as a trader. He had made a lot of
money at sperm whaling; and, I suppose, thought that as I had left him,
swearing I never wished to see him again, that he would spend the rest
of his days in the South Seas--money grubbing to the last.

\x93Sometimes I heard of him as being very prosperous. Once, when I was
told that he had been badly hurt by a gun accident, I wrote to him and
asked if he would care for me to come and stay with him. This I did for
the sake of my dead mother. Nearly a year and a half passed before I got
an answer--an answer that cut me to the quick:--

\x93\x91I want no undutiful son near me. I do well by myself\x92.

\x93Several years went by, and then when I was mate of a trading schooner
in the Fijis I was handed a letter by the American Consul. It was two
years old, and was from my father--a long, long letter, written in such
a kindly manner, and with such affectionate expressions that I forgave
the old man all the savage and unmerited thrashings he had given me when
I sailed with him as a lad.

\x93In this letter he told me that he wanted to see me again--that made
me feel good--and that he had built a schooner which he had named
_Juliette_ after my mother, who was a French _Canadienne_. He described
the labour and trouble he had taken over her, the knees and stringers
of _ngiia_ wood, and the carvings of sperm whales he had had cut on the
windlass butts and stanchions. Then he went on to say that he had been
having a lot of trouble with the French naval authorities, who wanted to
drive all Englishmen and Americans out of the group, and had made up
his mind to leave the Marquesas and settle down again either in Samoa or
Tonga, where he hoped I would join him and forget how hardly he had used
me in the past.

\x93The gun accident, he wrote, had rendered him all but blind, and he
had engaged a man named Krause, a German, as mate, and to navigate the
_Juliette_ to Tonga or Samoa. Krause, he said, was a man he did not
like, nor trust; but as he was a good sailor-man and could navigate, he
had engaged him, as he could get no one else at Nukahiva.

\x93With my father were a party of Marquesan natives--a chief and his
wife and her infant, and two young men. The schooner\x92s crew were four
Dagoes--deserters from some ship. He did not care about taking them, but
had no choice.

\x93Some ten days before the German and the crew came on board, my father
secretly took all his money--$8,000 in gold--and, aided by the Marquesan
chief, made a secure hiding-place for it by removing the skin in the
transoms, and then packing it in oakum and wedging each package in
between the timbers. Then he carefully relaid the skin, and repainted
the whole. He said, \x91If anything happens to me through treachery, no
one will ever discover that money, although they will get a couple of
thousand of Mexican silver dollars in my chest\x92.

\x93Well, the _Juliette_ sailed, and was never again heard of.

\x93That brings my story to an end, and if this is the _Juliette_, and the
money has not been taken, it is within six feet of us--there,\x94 and he
pointed calmly to the transoms.

Marsh was greatly excited.

\x93We shall soon see, Meredith. But first let me say that I am sure that
this is your father\x92s missing schooner, and that she is the vessel that
thirteen years ago called at Motumoe, and those who sailed her sent
Paut\xF4e on shore when she was an infant.\x94

Then he hurriedly related the story as told to him by Mr. Copley.

Meredith nodded. \x93No doubt the missionary was right and my father\x92s
fears were well-founded. I suppose the German and the Dagoes murdered
him and the four Marquesans. Krause, of course, would know that my poor
father had money on board. And I daresay that the Dagoes spared the
child out of piety--their Holy Roman consciences wouldn\x92t let \x91em cut
the throat of a probably unbaptised child. Now, Marsh, if you\x92ll clear
away the cushions and all the other gear from the transoms, I\x92ll get an
auger and an axe, and we\x92ll investigate.\x94

Rising from his seat in his usual leisurely manner, he went on deck, and
returned in a few minutes with a couple of augers, an axe, two wedges,
and a heavy hammer.

Marsh had cleared away the cushions and some boxes of provisions, and
was eagerly awaiting him.

Meredith, first of all, took the axe, and, with the back of the head,
struck the casing of the transoms.

\x93It\x92s all right, Marsh. Either the money, or something else is there
right enough, I believe. Bore away on your side.\x94

The two augers were quickly biting away through the hard wood of the
casing, and in less than two minutes Marsh felt the point of his break
through the inner skin, and then enter something soft; then it clogged,
and finally stuck. Reversing the auger, he withdrew it, and saw that on
the end were some threads of oakum and canvas, which he excitedly showed
to his partner, who nodded, and went on boring in an unmoved manner,
until the point of his auger penetrated the planking, stuck, and then
came a sound of it striking loose metal. The wedges were then driven in
between the planking, and one strip prised off, and there before them
was the money in small canvas bags, each bag parcelled round with oakum,
which was also packed tightly between the skin and timbers, forming a
compact mass.

Removing one bag only, Marsh placed it aside, then they replaced the
plank, plugged the auger holes, and hid the marks from view by stacking
the provision cases along the transoms.

\xC2li was called below, and told of the discovery. He, of course, was
highly delighted, and his eyes gleamed when Meredith unfastened the bag,
and poured out a stream of gold coin upon the cabin table.

That night the partners did not sleep. They talked over their plans for
the future, and decided to take the schooner to San Francisco, sell
her, and buy a larger vessel and a cargo of trade goods. Meredith was to
command, and Tahiti in the Society Group was to be their headquarters.
Here Marsh (with the faithful \xC2li and Leota, and, of course, Paut\xF4e) was
to buy land and form a trading station, whilst the vessel was to cruise
throughout the South Seas, trading for oil, pearl-shell and other island
produce.

Soon after daylight the anchor of the _Juliette_ was lifted and
she sailed out of Apia harbour, and by noon, Leota and Paut\xF4e were
astonished to see the little craft bring-to abreast of Laulii village,
and Marsh and Meredith come on shore.

Later on in the day, when the house was free of the kindly, but somewhat
intrusive native visitors, the partners told the strange story of the
_Juliette_ to Leota and Paut\xF4e, and of their plans for the future.

\x93Paut\xF4e,\x94 said Meredith, \x93in three years\x92 time will you marry me, and
sail with me in the new ship?\x94

\x93Aye, that will I, Lesta. Did I not say so before?\x94



CHAPTER XXVIII ~ THE MAN WHO KNEW EVERYTHING

The Man Who Knew Everything came to Samoa in November, when dark days
were on the land, and the nearing Christmas time seemed likely to be
as that of the preceding one, when burning villages and the crackle
of musketry, and the battle cries of opposing factions, engaged in
slaughtering one another, turned the once restful and beautiful Samoa
into a hell of evil passions, misery and suffering. For the poor King
Malietoa was making a game fight with his scanty and ill-armed troops
against the better-armed rebel forces, who were supplied, _sub rosa_,
with all the arms and ammunition they desired by the German commercial
agents of Bismarck, who had impressed upon that statesman the necessity
of making Samoa the base of German trading enterprise in the South Seas
by stirring up rebellion throughout the group to such an extent that
Germany, under the plea of humanity, would intervene--buy out the
British and American interests, and force the natives to accept a German
protectorate.

At this time the white population of Apia numbered about two hundred,
of whom one half were Germans--the rest were principally English and
Americans. For two years past a very bitter feeling had existed between
the staff of the great German trading firm, and the British and American
community. The latter had their places of business in Apia, and the
suburb of Matautu, the Germans occupied the suburb of Matafele, and
although there was a business intercourse between the people of the
three nationalities, there was absolutely none of a social character.
The British and American traders and residents were supporters of
King Malietoa, the Germans backed up the rebel party, and the natives
themselves were equally divided into pro-British, and pro-Germans.

At this time--when the Man Who Knew Everything arrived in Samoa from New
Zealand--I was living on shore. The vessel in which I was employed as
\x93recruiter\x94 in the Kanaka labour trade was laid up in Apia harbour. Two
months previously we had brought a cargo of native labourers from the
Gilbert Islands to be indentured to the cotton planters in Samoa, and
finding the country in such a disturbed state, with business paralysed,
and no further demand for a fresh cargo of Kanaka \x93recruits,\x94 we decided
to pay off most of the ship\x92s company, and let the brigantine lie
up till the end of the rainy and bad weather season--from the end of
November till March, The skipper and a few of the native crew remained
on board, but I took up my quarters on shore, at a little Samoan village
named Lelepa--two miles from Apia. Here I was the \x93paying guest\x94 of our
boatswain--a stalwart native of the island of Rarotonga. He had sailed
with me on several vessels during a period of some years; and on one of
our visits to Apia had married a Samoan girl of a good family.

Having much spare time on my hands I occupied it in deep-sea fishing and
shooting, and in making boat voyages along the coast, visiting a number
of native villages, where I was well-known to the people, who always
made me and my boat\x92s crew very welcome--for the Samoans are naturally a
most hospitable race, and love visiting and social intercourse. On these
excursions Marama (the native boatswain) and some other of the ship\x92s
crew sometimes came with me; on other occasions my party would be made
up of the two half-caste sons of the American Consul, two or three
Samoans and myself.

Towards the end of November there arrived from Auckland (N.Z.)
the trading schooner _Dauntless_. She brought one passenger whose
acquaintance I soon made, and whom I will call Marchmont. He was a fine,
well-set-up young fellow of about five and twenty years of age, and I
was delighted to find that he was a good all-round sportsman--I could
never induce any of the white traders or merchants of Apia to join me in
any of my many delightful trips. Marchmont was making a tour through
the Pacific Islands, partly on business, and partly on pleasure. He
was visiting the various groups on behalf of a Liverpool firm, who were
buying up land suitable for cotton-growing, and was to spend two months
in Samoa.

He and I soon made arrangements for a series of fishing and shooting
trips along the south coast of Upolu, where the country was quiet,
and as yet undisturbed by the war. But, although Marchmont was a most
estimable and companionable man in many respects, he had some serious
defects in his character, which, from a sportsman\x92s point of view, were
most objectionable, and were soon to bring him into trouble. One was
that he was most intensely self-opinionated, and angrily resented being
contradicted--even when he knew he was in the wrong; another was his bad
temper--whenever he did anything particularly foolish he would not stand
a little good-natured \x93chaff\x94--he either flew into a violent rage and
\x93said things\x94 or sulked like a boy of ten years of age. Then, too,
another regrettable feature about him was the fact that he, being a
young man of wealth, had the idea that he should always be deferred
to, never argued with upon any subject, and his advice sought upon
everything pertaining to sport. These unpromising traits in his
character soon got him into hot water, and before he had been a week in
Samoa he was nicknamed by both whites and natives \x93Misi Ulu Poto--m\xE2sani
mea uma,\x94--\x93Mr. Wise Head--the Man Who Knows Everything\x94. The term
stuck--and Marchmont took it quite seriously, as a well-deserved
compliment to his abilities.

My new acquaintance, I must mention, had a most extensive and costly
sporting outfit--all of it was certainly good, but much of it quite
useless for such places as Samoa and other Polynesian Islands. Of rifles
and guns he had about a dozen, with an enormous quantity of ammunition
and fittings, bags, water-proofing, tents, fishing-boots, spirit stoves,
hatchets in leather covers, hunting knives, etc., etc.; and his
fishing gear alone must have run into a tidy sum of money. This latter
especially interested me, but there was nothing in it that I would have
exchanged for any of my own--that is, few-deep-sea fishing, a sport in
which I was always very keen during a past residence of fifteen years in
the South Seas. When I showed my gear to Marchmont he criticised it with
great cheerfulness and freedom, and somewhat irritated me by frequently
ejaculating \x93Bosh!\x94 when I explained why in fishing at a depth of 100
to 150 fathoms for a certain species of _Ruvettus_ (a nocturnal-feeding
fish that attains a weight of over 100 lb.) a heavy wooden hook was
always used by the natives in preference to a steel hook of European
manufacture. I saw that it was impossible to convince him, so dropped
the subject; and showed him other gear of mine--flying-fish tackle,
barb-less pearl-shell hooks for bonito, etc., etc He \x93bosh-ed\x94 nearly
everything, and wound up by saying that he wondered why people of sense
accepted the dicta of natives in sporting matters generally.

\x93But I imagine that they do know a little about such things,\x94 I
observed.

\x93Bosh!--they pretend to, that\x92s all. Now, I\x92ve never yet met a Kanaka
who could show me anything, and I\x92ve been to Tonga, Fiji and Tahiti.\x94

Early one morning, I sent off my whaleboat with Marama in charge to
proceed round the south end of Upolu, and meet Marchmont and me at
a village on the lee side of the island named Siumu, which is about
eighteen miles distant from, and almost opposite to Apia, across the
range that traverses the island. An hour or so later Marchmont and I set
out, accompanied by two boys to carry our game bags, provisions,
etc. Each of them wore suspended from his neck a large white cowrie
shell--the Samoan badge of neutrality--for we had to pass first through
King Malietoa\x92s lines, and then through those of the besieging rebel
forces.

It was a lovely day, and in half an hour we were in the delightful
gloom of the sweet-smelling mountain forest. In passing through King
Malietoa\x92s trenches, the local chief of Apia, Se\x92u Manu, who was in
command, requested me to stay and drink kava with him. Politeness
required consent, and we were delayed an hour; this made the Man Who
Knew Everything very cross and rather rude, and the stalwart chief
(afterwards to become famous for his magnanimous conduct to his German
foes, when their squadron was destroyed in the great _Calliope_ gale
of March, 1889) looked at him with mild surprise, wondering at his
discourtesy. However, his temper balanced itself a little while after
leaving the lines, when he brought down a brace of fine pigeons with
a right and left shot, and a few minutes later knocked over a mountain
cock with my Winchester. It was a very clever shot--for the wild cock of
Samoa, the descendant of the domestic rooster, is a hard bird to shoot
even with a shot gun--and my friend was much elated. He really was a
first-class shot with either gun or rifle, though he had had but little
experience with the latter.

A few miles farther brought us to the little mountain village of
Tagiamamanono. It was occupied by the rebel troops from the Island of
Savai\x92i. Their chiefs were very courteous, and, of course, we were asked
to \x93stay and rest and drink kava\x94. To refuse would have been looked
upon as boorish and insulting, so I cheerfully acquiesced, and Marchmont
and I were escorted to a large house, where I formally presented him to
our hosts as a traveller from \x93Peretania,\x94 whom I was \x93showing around
Samoa\x94. Any man of fine physique attracts the Samoans, and a number of
pretty girls who were preparing the kava cast many admiring glances at
my friend, and commented audibly on his good looks.

Presently, as we were all smoking and exchanging compliments in the
high-flown, stilted Samoan style, there entered the house a strapping
young warrior, carrying a wickerwork cage, in which were two of the
rare and famous _Manu Mea_ (red-bird) of Samoa--the _Didunculus_
or tooth-billed pigeon. These were the property of the young chief
commanding the rebel troops, and had simply been brought into the house
as a mark of respect and attention to Marchmont and me. Money cannot
always buy these birds, and the rebel chief looked upon them as
mascottes. No one but himself, or the young man who was their custodian,
dared touch them, for a Samoan chief\x92s property--like his person--is
sacred and inviolate from touch except by persons of higher rank than
himself. I hurriedly and quietly explained this to Marchmont.

\x93Bosh! Look here! You tell him that I want to buy those birds, and will
give him a sovereign each for them.\x94

\x93I shall do no such thing. I know what I am talking about, and you
don\x92t. Fifty sovereigns would not buy those birds--so don\x92t say anything
more on the subject. If you do, you will give offence--and these Samoans
are very touchy.\x94

\x93Bah--that\x92s all bosh, my dear fellow. Any way, I\x92ll give five pounds
for the pair,\x94 and to my horror, and before I could stay him, he took
out five sovereigns, and \x93skidded\x94 them along the matted floor towards
the chief, a particularly irascible young man named Asi (Sandalwood).

\x93There, my friend, are five good English sovereigns for your birds. I
suppose I can trust you to send them to the English Consul at Apia for
me. Eh?\x94

There was a dead silence. Asi spoke English perfectly, but hitherto, out
of politeness, had only addressed me in Samoan. His eyes flashed with
quick anger at Marchmont, then he looked at me reproachfully, made a
sign to the custodian of the birds, and rising proudly to his feet, said
to me in Samoan:--

\x93I will drink kava with you alone, friend. Will you come to my own
house,\x94 and he motioned me to precede him. Never before had I seen
a naturally passionate man exhibit such a sense of dignity and
self-restraint under what was, to him, a stupid insult.

I turned to Marchmont: \x93Look what you have done, confound you for an
ass! If you are beginning this way in Samoa you will get yourself into
no end of trouble. Have you no sense?\x94

\x93I have sense enough to see that you are making a lot of fuss over
nothing. Tell the beastly savage that he can keep his wretched birds. I
would only have wrung their necks and had them cooked.\x94

The young warrior who held the cage, set it down, and striding up beside
the Man Who Knew Everything dealt him an open-handed back-hand blow
on the side of the head--a favourite trick of Samoan wrestlers and
fighters--and Marchmont went down upon the matted floor with a smash.
I thought he was killed--he lay so motionless--and in an instant there
flashed across my memory a story told to me by a medical missionary
in Samoa, of how one of these terrific back-handed \x93smacks\x94 dealt by a
native had broken a man\x92s neck.

However, in a few minutes, Marchmont recovered, and rose to his feet,
spoiling for a fight The natives regarded him with a sullen but assumed
indifference, and drew back, looking at me inquiringly. The matter
might have ended seriously, but for two things--Marchmont was at heart a
gentleman, and in response to my urgent request to him to apologise
for the gross affront he had put upon our host--did so frankly by first
extending his hand to the man who had knocked him down. And then, as he
never did things by halves, he came with me to Asi and said, as he shook
hands with him:--

\x93By Jove, Mr. Asi, that man of yours could knock down a bullock. I never
had such a thundering smack in my life.\x94

The chief smiled, then said gravely, in English, that he was sorry that
such an unpleasant incident had occurred. Then, after--with its many
attendant ceremonies--we had drunk our bowls of kava, and were smoking
and chatting, Asi asked Marchmont to let him examine his gun and rifle
(Marchmont had a Soper rifle and one of Manton\x92s best make of guns; I
had my Winchester and a fairly good gun). The moment Asi saw the Soper
rifle his eyes lit up, and he produced another from one of the house
beams overhead, and said regretfully that he had no cartridges left,
and was using a Snider instead. Marchmont promptly offered to give him
fifty.

\x93You must not do that,\x94 I said, \x93it will get us into serious trouble.
Asi\x94--and I turned to the chief--\x93will understand why we must not give
him cartridges to be used for warfare. It would be a great breach of
faith for us to do so--would it not?\x94

Keenly anxious as he was to obtain possession of the ammunition, the
chief, with a sigh of regret, acquiesced, but Marchmont sulked, and for
quite two hours after we had left the rebel village did not exchange a
word with me.

After getting over the range, and whilst we were descending the slope to
the southern littoral, some mongrel curs that belonged to our carriers,
and had gone on ahead of us, put up a wild sow with seven suckers, and
at once started off in pursuit. The old, razor-backed sow doubled
and came flying past us, with her nimble-footed and striped progeny
following. Marchmont and I both fired simultaneously--at the sow. I
missed her, but my charge of No 3 shot tumbled over one of the piglets,
which was at her heels, and Marchmont\x92s Soper bullet took her in the
belly, and passed clean through her. But although she went down for a
few moments she was up again like a Jack-in-the-box, and with an angry
squeal scurried along the thick carpet of dead leaves, and then darted
into the buttressed recesses of a great _masa\x92oi_ (cedar) tree, which
was evidently her home, followed by two or three game mongrels.

Dropping his rifle, Marchmont ran to the trees, seized the nearest
cur by the tail, and slung it away down the side of the slope, then he
kicked the others out of his way, and kneeling down peered into the dark
recess formed by two of the buttresses.

\x93Come out of that,\x94 I shouted, \x93you\x92ll get bitten if you go near her.
What are you trying to do? Get out, and give the dogs a chance to turn
her out.\x94

\x93Bosh! Mind your own business. I know what I\x92m about. She\x92s lying
inside, as dead as a brickbat I\x92ll have her out in a jiffy,\x94 and then
his head and shoulders disappeared--then came a wild, blood-curdling
yell of rage and pain, and the Man Who Knew Everything backed out with
the infuriated sow\x92s teeth deeply imbedded into both sides of his
right hand; his left gripped her by the loose and pendulous skin of her
throat. One of the native boys darted to his aid, and with one blow of
his hatchet split open the animal\x92s skull.

\x93Well, of all the born idiots----\x94 I began, when I stopped, for I
saw that Marchmont\x92s face was very pale, and that he was suffering
excruciating pain. A pig bite is always dangerous and that which he had
sustained was a serious one. Fortunately, it was bleeding profusely, and
as quickly as possible we procured water, and thoroughly cleansed, and
then bound up his hand.

As soon as we got to Siumu I hurried to the house of the one white
trader, and was lucky in getting a bottle of that good old-fashioned
remedy--Friar\x92s balsam. I poured it into a clean basin, and Marchmont
unhesitatingly put in his hand, and let it stay there. The agony was
great, and the language that poured from the patient was of an extremely
lurid character. But he had wonderful grit, and I had to laugh when he
began abusing himself for being such an idiot. He then allowed a
native woman to cover the entire hand with a huge poultice, made of the
beaten-up pulp of wild oranges--a splendid antiseptic. But it was a
week before he could use his hand again, and his temper was something
abominable. However, we managed to put in the time very pleasantly
by paying a round of visits to the villages along the coast, and were
entertained and feasted to our heart\x92s content by the natives. Then
followed some days\x92 grand pig hunting and pigeon shooting in the
mountains, amidst some of the most lovely tropical scenery in the world.
Marchmont killed a grand old tusker, and presented the tusks to the
local chief, who in return gave him a very old kava bowl--a valuable
article to Samoans. He was, as usual, incredulous when I told him that
it was worth \xA310, and that Theodor Weber, the German Consul General, who
was a collector, would be only too glad to get it at that price.

\x93What, for that thing?\x94

\x93Yes, for that thing. Quite apart from its size, its age makes it
valuable. I daresay that more than half a century has passed since the
tree from which it was made was felled by stone axes, and the bowl
cut out from a solid piece.\x94 It was fifteen inches high, two feet in
diameter, and the four legs and exterior were black with age, whilst
the interior, from constant use of kava, was coated with a bright yellow
enamel. The labour of cutting out such a vessel with such implements--it
being, legs and bowl, in one piece--must have taken long months. Then
came the filing down with strips of shark skin, which had first been
softened, and then allowed to dry and contract over pieces of wood,
round and flat; then the final polishing with the rough underside of
wild fig-leaves, and then its final presentation, with such ceremony, to
the chief who had ordered it to be made.

I explained all this to Marchgiont, and he actually believed me and did
not say \x93Bosh!\x94

\x93I thought that you made a fearfully long-winded oration on my behalf
when the chief gave me the thing,\x94 he remarked.

\x93I did. I can tell you, Marchmont, that I should have felt highly
flattered if he had presented it to me. He seems to have taken a violent
fancy to you. But, for Heaven\x92s sake, don\x92t think that, because he
has been told that you are a rich man, he has any ulterior motive. And
don\x92t, I beg of you, offer him money. He has a reason for showing his
liking for you.\x94

I knew what that reason was. Suisala, the chief of Siumu, had, from
the very first, expressed to me his admiration of Marchmont\x92s stalwart,
athletic figure, and his fair complexion, and was anxious to confer on
him a very great honour--that of exchanging names. Suisala was of one of
the oldest and most chiefly families in Samoa, and was proud of the fact
that the French navigator Bougainville had taken especial notice of his
grandfather (who was also a Suisala) and who had been presented with
a fowling piece and ammunition by the French officer. As I have before
mentioned, physical strength and manliness always attract the Samoan
mind, and the chief of Siumu had, as I afterwards explained to
March-mont, fallen a victim to his \x93fatal beauty\x94.

One morning, a few days after the presentation of the _tanoa_
(kava-bowl) to the Man Who Knew Everything, a schooner appeared outside
the reef and hove-to, there being no harbour at Siumu. She was an
American vessel, and had come to buy copra from, and land goods for, the
local trader. There was a rather heavy sea running on the reef at the
time, and the work of shipping the copra and landing the stores
proved so difficult and tedious that I lent my boat and crew to help.
Unfortunately Marama was laid up with influenza, so could not take
charge of the boat; I also was on the sick list, with a heavy cold.
However, my crew were to be trusted, and they made several trips during
the morning. Marchmont, after lunch, wanted to board the schooner, and
also offered to take charge of the boat and crew for the rest of the
day. Knowing that he was not used to surf work, I declined his offer,
but told him he could go off on board if he did not mind a wetting. He
was quite nettled, and angrily asked me if I thought he could not take
a whaleboat through a bit of surf as well as either Marama or myself. I
replied frankly that I did not.

He snorted with contempt \x93Bosh. I\x92ve taken boats through surf five times
as bad as it is now--a tinker could manage a boat in the little sea that
is running now. You fellows are all alike--you think that you and your
natives know everything.\x94

\x93Oh, then, do as you like,\x94 I replied angrily, \x93but if you smash that
boat it means a loss of \xA350, and----\x94

\x93Hang your \xA350! If I hurt your boat, I\x92ll pay for the damage. But don\x92t
begin to preach at me.\x94

With great misgivings, I saw the boat start off, manned by eight men,
using native paddles, instead of oars, as was customary in surf work.
Marchmont, certainly, by good luck, managed to get her over the reef,
for I could see that he was quite unused to handling a steer oar.
However, my native crew, by watching the sea and taking no heed of the
steersman, shot the boat over the reef into deep water beyond. But in
getting alongside the schooner he nearly swamped, and I was told began
abusing my crew for a set of blockheads. This, of course, made them
sulky--to be abused for incompetence by an incompetent stranger, was
hard to bear, especially as the men, like all the natives of their
islands (Rotumah and Niue), were splendid fellows at boat work.

However, the boat at last cast off, and headed for the shore, and then
I saw something that filled me with wrath. As the lug sail was being
hoisted, March-mont drew in his steer-oar, and shipped the rudder, and
in another minute the boat was bounding over the rolling seas at a great
rate towards the white breakers on the reef, but steering so wildly
that I foresaw disaster. The crew, in vain, urged Marchmont to ship the
steer-oar again, but he told them to mind their own business, and sat
there, calm and strong, in his mighty conceit.

On came the boat, and we on shore watched her as she rose stern up to a
big comber, then down she sank from view into the trough, broached to,
and the next roller fell upon and smothered her, and rolled her over and
over into the wild boil of surf on the reef.

The Man Who Knew Everything came off badly, and was brought on shore
full of salt water, and unconscious. He had been dashed against the
jagged coral, and from his left thigh down to his foot had been terribly
lacerated; then as the crew swam to his assistance--for his clothing had
caught in the coral, and he was under water and drowning--and brought
him to the surface, the despised steer-oar (perhaps out of revenge)
came hurtling along on a swirling sea, and the haft of it struck him a
fearful blow on the head, nearly fracturing his skull.

Fearing his injuries would prove fatal, I sent a canoe off to the
schooner with a message to the captain to come on shore, but the vessel,
having finished her business, was off under full sail, and did not see
the canoe. Then the trader and I did our best for the poor fellow, who,
as soon as he regained consciousness, began to suffer agonies from the
poison of the wounds inflicted by the coral. We sent a runner to Apia
for a doctor, and early next morning one arrived.

Marchmont was quite a month recovering, and when he was fully
convalescent, he kept his opinions to himself, and I think that the
lesson he had received did him good. He afterwards told me that he
determined to sail the boat in with a rudder purely to annoy me, and was
sorry for it.

When he was able to get about again as usual, the devil of restlessness
again took possession of him and he was soon in trouble again--through
the bursting of a gun. I was away from Apia at the time--at the little
island of Manono, buying yams for the ship which was getting ready for
sea again--when I received a letter from a friend giving me the Apia
gossip, and was not surprised that Marchmont figured therein.

\x93Your friend Marchmont,\x94 so ran the letter, \x93is around, as usual, and in
great form, though he had a narrow squeak of having his head blown
off last week through his gun bursting while out pigeon-shooting up by
Lano-to lake. It seems that it was raining at the time, and the track
down the mountain to the lake was very slippery. He had Johnny Coe the
half-caste, and two Samoans with him. Was carrying his gun under his arm
and going down the track in his usual careless, cock-a-hoopy style when
he tripped over a root of a tree and went down, flat on his face, into
the red slippery soil. He picked himself up again quick enough, and
began swearing at the top of his voice, when a lot of ducks rose from
the lake and came dead on towards him. Without waiting to see if his gun
was all right, although it was covered with mud, he pulled the trigger
of his right barrel, and it burst; one of the fragments gave him a
nasty jagged wound on the chin and the Samoan buck got a lot of small
splinters in his face. After the idiot had pulled himself together he
examined his gun and found that the left barrel was plugged up with hard
red earth. No doubt the other one had also been choked up, for Johnny
Coe said that when he fell the muzzle of the gun was rammed some inches
into the ground.\x94

When I returned to Apia with a cutter load of yams, I called on
Marchmont and found him his old self. He casually mentioned his mishap
and cursed the greasy mountain track as the cause. At the same time he
told me that he was beginning to like the country and that the natives
were \x93not a bad lot of fellows--if you know how to take \x91em\x94.

Then came his final exploit.

There is, in the waters of the Pacific Isles, a species of the trevalli,
or rudder fish, which attains an enormous size and weight. It is a good
eating fish, like all the trevalli tribe, and much thought of by both
Europeans and natives, for, being an exceedingly wary fish, it is not
often caught, at least in Samoa. In the Live Islands, where it is more
common, it is called _La\x92heu_ and in Fiji _Sanka_. One evening Lama, one
of the Coe half-caste boys, and I succeeded in hooking and capturing one
of these fish, weighing a little over 100 lb. In the morning the Man
Who Knew Everything came to look at it, was much interested, and said he
would have a try for one himself after lunch.

\x93No use trying in clear daylight,\x94 I said; \x93after dusk, at night (if not
moonlight), or before daybreak is the time.\x94

\x93Bosh!\x94 was his acidulous comment \x93I\x92ve caught the same fish in New
Zealand in broad daylight.\x94 I shook my head, knowing that he was wrong.
He became angry, and remarked that he had found that all white men who
had lived in foreign countries for a few years accepted the rubbishy
dictum of natives regarding sporting matters of any kind as infallible.
Refusing to show me the tackle he intended using, at two o\x92clock he
hired a native canoe, and paddled off alone into Apia Harbour. Then he
began to fish for _La\x92heu_, using a mullet as bait. In five minutes
he was fast to a good-sized and lusty shark, which promptly upset the
canoe, went off with the line and left him to swim. The officer of the
deck of the French gunboat _Vaudreuil_, then lying in the port, sent a
boat and picked him up. This annoyed him greatly, as he wanted, like an
idiot, to swim on shore--a thing that a native would not always care to
do in a shark-infested place like Apia Harbour, especially during the
rainy season (as it then was), when the dreaded _tanifa_ sharks come
into all bays or ports into which rivers or streams debouch.

That evening, however, Marchmont condescended to look at the tackle I
used for _La\x92heu_, said it was clumsy, and only fit for sharks, but,
on the whole, there were \x93some good ideas\x94 about it; also that he would
have another try that night. I suggested that either one of the Coe lads
or Lama should go with him, to which he said \x93Bosh!\x94 Then, after sunset,
I sent some of my boat\x92s-crew to catch flying-fish for bait. They
brought a couple of dozen, and I told Marchmont that he should bait with
a whole flying-fish, make his line ready for casting, and then throw
over some \x93burley\x94--half a dozen flying-fish chopped into small pieces.
He would not show me the tackle he intended using, so I was quite in the
dark as to what manner of gear it was. But I ascertained later on that
it was good and strong enough to hold any deep sea fish, and the hook
was of the right sort--a six-inch flatted, with curved shank, and
swivel mounted on to three feet of fine twisted steel seizing wire. My
obstinate friend had a keen eye, even when he was most disparaging
in his remarks, and had copied my _La\x92heu_ tackle most successfully,
although he had \x93bosh-ed\x94 it when I first showed it to him.

Refusing to let any one accompany him, although the local pilot candidly
informed him that he was a dunderhead to go fishing alone at night in
Apia Harbour, Marchmont started off about 2 A.M. in an ordinary native
canoe, meant to hold not more than three persons when in smooth water.
It was a calm night, but rainy, and the crew of the French gunboat
noticed him fishing near the ship about 2.30. A little while after,
the officer of the watch saw a heavy rain squall coming down from the
mountain gorges, and good-naturedly called out to the fisherman to
either come alongside or paddle ashore, to avoid being swamped. The
clever man replied in French, somewhat ungraciously, that he could quite
well look after himself. A little after 3 A.M. the squall ceased, and
as neither Marchmont nor the canoe was visible, the French sailors
concluded that he had taken their officer\x92s advice and gone on shore.

About seven o\x92clock in the morning, as I was bathing in the little river
that runs into Apia Harbour, a native servant girl of the local resident
medical missionary came to the bank and called to me, and told me a
startling story. My obstinate friend had been picked up at sea, four
miles from Apia Harbour, by a _taumualua_ (native-built whaleboat). He
was in a state of exhaustion and collapse, and when brought into Apia
was more dead than alive, and the doctor was quickly summoned I at once
went to see him, but was not admitted to his room, and for three days he
had to lie up, suffering from shock--and, I trust, a feeling of humility
for being such an obstinate blockhead.

His story was simple enough: During the heavy rain squall his bait
was taken by some large and powerful fish (he maintained that it was
a _La\x92heu_, though most probably it was a shark), and thirty or forty
yards of line flew out before he could get the pull of it. When he did,
he foolishly made the loose part fast to the canoe seat amidships,
and the canoe promptly capsized, and the fore end of the outrigger
unshipped. Clinging to the side of the frail craft, he shouted to the
gunboat for help, but no one heard in the noise of the wind and heavy
rain, and in ten minutes he found himself in the passage between the
reefs, and rapidly being towed out to sea. He tried to sever the line by
biting it through (he had lost his knife), but only succeeded in
losing a tooth. Then, as the canoe was being dragged through the water
broadside on, a heavy sea submerged her and the line parted, the shark
or whatever it was going off. Never losing his pluck, he tried in the
darkness to secure the loose end of the outrigger, but failed, owing to
the heavy, lumpy seas. Then for two anxious, miserable hours he clung to
the canoe, expecting every moment to find himself minus his legs by the
jaws of a shark, and when sighted and picked up by the native boat he
was barely conscious.

He learnt a lesson that did him good. He never again went out alone in
a canoe at night, and for many days after his recovery he never uttered
the word \x93Bosh!\x94



CHAPTER XXIX ~ THE PATTERING OF THE MULLET

It is a night of myriad stars, shining from a dome of deepest blue.
The lofty, white-barked swamp gums stand silent and ghost-like on the
river\x92s bank, and the river itself is almost as silent as it flows to
meet the roaring surf on the bar of the rock-bound coast fifteen miles
away, where when the south-east wind blows lustily by day and dies away
at night the long billows of the blue Pacific roll on unceasingly.

Overhead, far up in the topmost boughs of one of the giant gums some
opossums squeal angrily at an intruding native bear, which, like
themselves, has climbed to feed upon the young and tender eucalyptus
leaves. Below, a prowling dingo steals slowly over the thick carpet of
leaves, then sitting on his haunches gazes at the prone figures of two
men stretched out upon their blankets at the foot of the great tree.
His green, hungry eyes have discerned a pair of saddle-bags and his keen
nostrils tell him that therein are salt beef and damper. He sinks gently
down upon the yielding leaves and for a minute watches the motionless
forms; then he rises and creeps, creeps along. A horse bell tinkles from
beyond the scrub and in an instant the wild dog lies flat again. Did he
not see one of the men move? No, all is quiet, and once more he creeps
forward. Then from beneath the tree there comes a flash and a report and
a bullet flies and the night prowler leaps in the air with a snarling
yelp and falls writhing in his death agony, as from the sand flats in
the river arises the clamour of startled wild fowl and the rush and
whirr of a thousand wings. Then silence again, save for the long-drawn
wail of a curlew.

One of the men rises, kicks together the dying camp fire and throws on
a handful of sticks and leaves. It blazes up and a long spear of light
shoots waveringly across the smooth current of the river.

\x93Get him, Harry?\x94 sleepily asks his companion as he sits up and feels
for his pipe.

\x93Yes--couldn\x92t miss him. He\x92s lying there. Great Scott! Didn\x92t he jump.\x94

\x93Poor beggar--smelt the tucker, I suppose. Well, better a dead dog than
a torn saddle-bag. Hear the horses?\x94

\x93Yes, they\x92re all right--feeding outside the timber belt How\x92s the time,
Ted?\x94

\x93Three o\x92clock. What a deuce of a row those duck and plover kicked up
when you fired! We ought to get a shot or two at them when daylight
comes.\x94

\x93Harry,\x94 a big, bearded fellow of six feet, nodded as he lit his pipe.

\x93Yes, we ought to get all we want up along the blind creeks, and we\x92ll
have to shift camp soon. It\x92s going to rain before daybreak, and we
might as well stay here over to-morrow and give the horses a spell.\x94

\x93It\x92s clouding over a bit, but I don\x92t think it means rain.\x94

\x93I do. Listen,\x94 and he held up his hand towards the river.

His companion listened, and a low and curious sound--like rain and yet
not like rain--a gentle and incessant pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat,
then a break for a few seconds, then again, sometimes sounding loud and
near, at others faintly and far away.

\x93Sounds like a thousand people knockin\x92 their finger nails on tables.
Why, it must be rainin\x92 somewhere close to on the river.\x94

\x93No, it\x92s the pattering of mullet, heading up the river--thousands,
tens of thousands, aye hundreds of thousands. It is a sure sign of heavy
rain. We\x92ll see them presently when they come abreast of us. That queer
_lip, lap, lip, lap_ you hear is made by their tails. They sail along
with heads well up out of the water--the blacks tell me that they smell
the coming rain--then swim on an even keel for perhaps twenty yards or
so, and the upper lobe of their tails keeps a constant flapping on the
water. You know how clearly you can hear the flip of a single fish\x92s
tail in a pond on a quiet night? Well, to-night you\x92ll hear the sound
of fifty thousand. Once, when I was prospecting in the Shoalhaven River
district I camped with some net fishermen near the Heads. It was a calm,
quiet night like this, and something awakened me It sounded like heavy
rain falling on big leaves. \x91Is it raining, mate?\x92 I said to one of
the fishermen. \x91No,\x92 he replied, \x91but there\x92s a heavy thunderstorm
gathering; and that noise you hear is mullet coming up from the Heads,
three miles away.\x92 That was the first time I ever saw fish packed so
closely together--it was a wonderful sight, and when they began to pass
us they stretched in a solid line almost across the river and the noise
they made was deafening. But we must hurry up, lad, shift our traps a
bit back into the scrub and up with the tent. Then we\x92ll come back and
have a look at the fish, and get some for breakfast.\x94

The two hardy prospectors (for such they were) were old and experienced
bushmen, and soon had their tent up, and their saddles, blankets and
guns and provisions under its shelter, just as the first low muttering
of thunder hushed the squealing opossums overhead into silence. But, as
it died away, the noise of the myriad mullet sounded nearer and nearer
as they swam steadily onward up the river.

Ten minutes passed, and then a heavy thunder-clap shook the mighty trees
and echoed and re-echoed among the spurs and gullies of the coastal
range twenty miles away; another and another, and from the now leaden
sky the rain fell in torrents and continued to pour unceasingly for
an hour. Inside the tent the men sat and smoked and waited Then the
downfall ceased with a \x93snap,\x94 the sky cleared as if by magic, revealing
the stars now paling before the coming dawn, and the cries of birds
resounded through the dripping bush.

Picking up a prospecting dish the elder man told his \x93mate\x94 that it
was time to start. Louder than ever now sounded the noise made by the
densely packed masses of fish, and as the rays of the rising sun, aided
by a gentle air, dispelled the river mist, the younger man gave a gasp
of astonishment when they reached the bank and he looked down--from
shore to shore the water was agitated and churned into foam showing a
broad sheet of flapping fins and tails and silvery scales. So close were
the fish to the bank and so overcrowded that hundreds stranded upon the
sand.

The big man stepped down, picked up a dozen and put them into the dish;
then he and his companion sat on the bank and watched the passage of the
thousands till the last of them had rounded a bend of the river and the
waters flowed silently once more.





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Call Of The South - 1908" ***

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